Blue Petals and Broken Glass
by Swanandapirate
Summary: Emma had the night shift and when a burglary call came in, she had to go and do her job. She ended up at the flowershop of a certain Killian Jones and he clearly knew more about the robbery than he was letting on.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here's my The Words fic because my lovely friend wanted one and she's awesome. I don't know why I did it to myself but it's a multi-chapter fic. Hope you enjoy it!**

 _It's the last one, Emma. Just one more and then it's David's turn for a week._

Emma sat in the office. The bright neon lights illuminated the, otherwise dark, room and made an irritating, buzzing noise. Her red, leather jacket was hanging on the chair and she had taken her boots, also made from the same material, off and stuffed them under her desk.

Night shifts always felt so useless.

A stack of paper files, protected by brown folders, filled the majority of the desk and Emma sighed while singing off another rapport.

Emma loved every part of her job as sheriff, except one.

The one she was currently doing.

Storybrooke wasn't a town where terrible things happened. There were no high-speed car chases or life-threatening situations. It was the town you saw on postcards, with its nice and helpful inhabitants and the eternal calm that was always present. For the better part, Emma's day consisted of writing parking tickets and going to mediate small disputes. The most action she saw, was when someone spent a little too long in The Rabbit Hole and could use a night in the cell to sober up. If the days were like that, you could imagine how the nights were.

To be quite honest, they were boring.

There wasn't any use for her and David both being here, so they created a system. It was a good call making the system, but Emma just didn't like being alone.

Before her shift, she passed by Granny's to order a grilled cheese and some onion rings. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she had promised herself those when she finished every last file on that desk. She already regretted her commitment.

Feeling the need for some coffee, she walked towards the little kitchen they had at the station. Despite her socks, her feet still felt the cold of the floor and she hurried back with a warm, strong cup to keep her awake.

"Come on, Emma. Only..."

She interrupted her sentence to count the remaining files.

"5 more to go and then, it's dinner time."

Because she was all alone in a dark space, Emma had the tendency to talk to herself.

Not in a creepy way, may she add, but just about banalities that she observed or encouragement to get through the work. Even though she didn't like being here, the dark actually helped her think. A month ago she came up with an idea for an extra driving course. There had been far too many accidents with Cruella and her eccentric car and even the rest of the town didn't drive as well as they thought. When David came to relieve her from duty, she told him her idea and he was convinced instantly. He told her they would discuss it later and the whole event turned into a success.

The pile had nearly completely vanished and when she turned the page of the last case, Emma felt relieved. It was finally time to eat a bit of heaven.

She went back to the kitchen to get a plate and just when she was about to sit down the phone went off.

"No! Come on," she exclaimed.

The ringing kept on going on. She picked up and much to her disappointment, it was an automatic alarm system. There was a burglary happening somewhere in Storybrooke and she was expected to arrive there as fast as possible.

"I guess I'll have to wait before I can eat," she said while zipping up her boots, one by one.

She made sure the car keys were in her pocket, took her jacket and put it on.

"Let's go play the savior."

She heard a distant ring, so she went in the direction of that. She drove further away from the town's center and more to the forest side.

Was there even a store here?

The alarm stopped, but Emma hadn't arrived yet. There was only one road.

If she followed it, she should end up where she has to be, right?

She tried to make out anything in the dark and when she finally saw it, it was clear that this was the place. Shattered glass was lying around the building. She could, however, still read the letters. **Black and Bloom, flowers for every occasion**

A flower shop.

With a strange name.

She did know that there was a florist in town, where else would Mary Margaret's various bouquets come from, run by Belle's father, but a second one?

She got out of the car and walked towards the shop.

"Hello?" she shouted.

She had taken her flashlight to take a look at the damage. She heard some ruckus in the back and talked again.

"This is the sheriff, is anyone there?"

This time she put some authority in her voice, to make sure he or she knew who they were dealing with.

"Aye, I'm here," an accented voice said.

A man walked out of the room and put his hands up.

"And who might you be?"

Emma shined the flashlight in his eyes and it looked like they shined the light right back at her.

"Killian Jones, the owner of the shop."

He slowly walked towards the wall and made a gesture towards something in the shadow.

"May I turn on the light? I think it would be far easier to- well, do anything."

Emma nodded and when nothing happened, she realized that he couldn't actually see her.

"Yes, go ahead."

The man crossed the room to the light switch. Glass crackled under his feet and when he finally reached the wall, it stopped. The light went on and Emma had to close her eyes. They were working on full night-sight and were a bit overwhelmed by the brightness.

"Sheriff Swan, it's a pleasure."

Now that the lights were back, she took another look at him.

He was dressed in a navy blue t-shirt and he wore a black cotton pair of pants.

It was clear that he raced out of bed to get here as fast as possible. His black hair was tousled and it was pointed in all directions, but still looked amazing.

Emma was secretly a bit jealous of those people. Her hair in the morning looked more like a bird's nest than anything else. Before her train of thought took her away, she noticed something. He knew who she was.

 _Emma, you're the sheriff and we're in Storybrooke. Is there anyone who doesn't know you?_

"I wouldn't say pleasure, Mr. Jones, seeing that your place just got trashed. Did you see the person who did this?" she paused to look around. "Do you know if anything was stolen?"

Why would someone even rob a flower shop?

She looked at the ground and saw she was standing on a flower. The blue leaves were brightly colored and Emma ducked down. She was right, a forget-me-not. It was possible that this was the flower tattooed on her wrist.

The other possibility?

A buttercup.

She had to, shamefully, admit that she picked it more for aesthetic purposes than for a story behind it.

"I haven't really looked, but chances are that nothing was stolen," The florist replied and Emma's face turned confused.

"But if you haven't looked, how would you know that? You surely have something of value in here. It could be gone."

The man shook his head. He was persistent.

"Okay." Emma tried again. "Why would anyone do this to your shop if they didn't come to steal anything." She raised her eyebrows at him and really wanted to hear his answer on this question.

"It could be a rebellion against flower shops? Or maybe they just have something against daffodils." He smirked, but Emma was not amused.

"Mr. Jones, if you know who did this, you should tell me and let me do my job."

He ran his hand through his hair. His stupid, perfect, "I woke up like this" hair.

"It won't be necessary, Sheriff. I'll take care of it myself."

"I didn't give you a choice. Tell me who did this, so I can put the bastard behind bars."

He scanned the room and walked past her. Emma turned to him. He handed her a pink rose, one of the only flowers that was not destroyed. She hesitantly accepted it, not knowing what to do with it.

"Go home, lass. You can't do anything here. The culprit is gone and nothing was stolen. You're welcome to stay for the cleanup, but I think going home is far more comfortable than to clear shards of glass off the floor. Thank you for coming so fast and goodnight."

She didn't like it when people told her what to do or when they tried to get rid of her, but if he wasn't telling her anything, what was the use?

She could stay here, but the chances that he would actually tell her were slim. He had a good poker face. Also, there was a nice meal waiting for her at the sheriff's station and she was starving.

"I'll go back to the office to prepare the paperwork, but I need to come back tomorrow. It doesn't matter what you say, this has to be investigated."

She showed him that there was no use in arguing because her mind was set. Now she had to see if he'd try to change it. He glanced at her and saw something that made him follow.

"All right. I'm so looking forward to that paperwork. It's my favorite thing."

She left him standing in the mess and walked back to the car and muttered

"You and me both, buddy. You and me both."

* * *

She returned around in the late afternoon.

The glass fragments had disappeared and Emma walked in with the papers in her hand. The floor was completely cleared of anything that didn't belong there and a few bouquets were standing on the racks. The ring of the door announced her presence and the florist showed up. His hair looked the same as last night, but he had traded in his PJ's for a gray, knitted sweater and a pair of jeans.

She had to admit that he looked fine in both of the outfits.

"Good afternoon, sheriff. I take it you've come with the documents."

She nodded. "Hello, Mr. Jones. You've cleaned up quite well, I see."

He laughed. "Thank you for the compliment. I usually don't come to work in my pajamas, but I didn't really have the time to change yesterday. I came here as fast as possible."

Emma threw him a confused look. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, it dawned on her.

"Oh, um. I actually meant that you've cleaned up the shop."

His eyes widened and his hand went to his head. He paused for a second and then awkwardly scratched his head.

"Apologies, lass. I mistook your statement. Let's sign the papers," he suggested and the hand went to grab a pen that was lying on the counter.

She handed him the files.

"I still need to take a look around."

"I don't see the use in that, but feel free to control everything."

He skimmed through the letters on the paper, while Emma walked around. The mess was completely gone, so looking for clues was useless. She squatted down when a small object claimed her attention. She picked it up and inspected it. She sensed his presence behind her and looked over her shoulder.

"This doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" she asked and showed him the bracelet charm.

Emma's knowledge of flowers was limited, but she did know this was a daisy.

She wasn't able to read him before, but now his face showed sadness. He put his hand out and she placed the piece of jewelry in it.

He tenderly touched it. She kept looking at him.

His blue eyes betrayed the emotional attachment to the object and before Emma could say anything about it, he started speaking.

"No, I'm guessing one of my clients must've dropped it. It's a mere trinket."

His attitude was composed again and the little flower disappeared into his pocket.

"Here you have the files back. I'm assuming that this ends your investigation."

Emma stood back up.

"Look, Mr. Jones."

He interrupted her, "You can call me Killian, sheriff."

She had to make this clear to him. She was the sheriff and if everyone did what they wanted in Storybrooke, it would turn into a chaos very fast.

"Okay, Killian, I still call the shots here and I'm not convinced that this was a one-time thing. I think you know that too and I also think you have a reason not to file a complaint against whoever did this. So no, I'm not done with the investigation. I can't let a citizen of this town live with the liability of being harmed. I'm just going to keep coming back until you talk and if you don't... It's looking like we're going to spend some time together. I must mention that I'm not going to do anything. I'll be here, doing completely nothing. Maybe I'll even bring my paperwork. I know how much you like that."

She ended her speech, convinced that he would spill the beans and that she would finally be able to do her job. He only had to tell her and then she could arrest the person. He rolled up his sleeves and smirked. The reason why quickly became clear.

"Sheriff Swan, I did not know you felt this way. I mean I fancied you from time to time, but you suggested it yourself. I'll gladly spend some more time with you. Maybe I could even teach you a thing or two about botany."

He raised his eyebrow and Emma suddenly felt the urge to get that smirk off his charming face in any way possible.

He made everything even worse.

"So, you're welcome here anytime, sheriff. I'm looking forward to our rendezvous."

He winked at her and Emma damned him.

 _Emma! Don't let him be victorious. You are the sheriff; you can't let him boss you around. But it's true that you gave him the opening and he only used it. Fuck. You can't back down now._

Emma replied and over the next few days she would beat herself up because she didn't find a better one.

"Okay, see you tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

**As I said before: I am a weak human being and I should totally be studying instead of writing. This long chapter is specially dedicated to someone because she felt so "offended" that I didn't mention her in the previous chapter. So Laura, aka the biggest Christina Perri fan and the second biggest CS fan, this one's for you ;)**

Emma went back the next day; just like she had told him. There were some more copies that he needed to receive for the insurance. If he didn't get them, it could be that the damage wasn't repaid, so it was crucial he did.

She left right before lunch, hoping to make a quick stop, gaining the information she needed and never having to see the florist again. Emma turned the steering wheel to the right and parked on the gravel ground. She hesitated about locking the car, but eventually, she turned the key and put the collection of metal in her pocket.

The store's door frame was still there but the glass was now completely gone. She could step into the building without opening the still grabbed the handle, to have some form of basic respect, and the little bell rang.

His head popped from behind the counter with a curious look. He registered her face and spoke.

"Are you back already, Sheriff?"

He actually dared to wink at her. Emma had to control herself not to let her eyes turn the full 360 degrees.

"I have more paperwork for you."

"Bugger," he said with a sigh and he stood up.

Emma didn't know the exact significance of the word, but she figured it was related with her own personal favorite: fuck.

"You only need to sign one sheet."

"Aye, and then I need to go to the insurance and most likely sign and read twenty more."

He removed his apron and his blue checkered shirt was now completely revealed.

It matched his eyes.

Emma deferred her look to the paper laying on the counter and turned to the page where the signature line was situated.  
While he read the last paragraph, she decided to try again.

"So, did those 24 hours bring any revelations regarding the vandalism in here?"

He scribbled his autograph on the dotted line and folded the file. His mouth opened to reply but was interrupted.

A ring sounded through the room. Emma felt the accompanying buzz in her pocket and picked up.

"Sheriff Swan."

She heard David's voice through her phone. Jones showed great interest and she slightly turned away.

"No, no. Go ahead. You should find them in the box under my desk. Uhuh, that's the one. It shouldn't take long; they are already sorted by date."

She paused to let David talk. Her lips curled in a smile.

"David, it's been 4 years. You should know it by now."

...

" Yes," she softly chuckles. "onion rings and grilled cheese. I'll see you in a bit."

She hung up the phone and turned back. She would think that someone so good at hiding his motives would be better at eavesdropping, but the contrary is true.

"I never would have thought you were an onion rings kind of lass, sheriff. I'm more of a fries lad, myself."

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"As you can see, there are no customers."

"Do you even have customers?"

It blurted out. She didn't want to sound mean or anything. She had been here three times and not one time was there another soul in here.

To be fair, the first time was in the middle of the night, but still. The distance between the city center and "Black and Bloom" could play a part.

"Awtch, sheriff. That hurt."

He placed his hand over his heart before getting earnest.

"No, I don't have that many customers in here, but I do provide "Game of Thorns" with beautiful bouquets, flowers, and arrangements. There are some who prefer driving all the way out here so they get the merchandise right from the source."

 _Oh and that completely doesn't make you sound like a drug dealer.  
_  
"Great for you. I take it you're not going tell me anything about what happened that night."

He shook his head.

"Then I'm leaving."

"But, sheriff, you have only rejoiced my establishment for mere minutes."

 _Why does this guy talk like he just walked out of "Downton Abbey" or something? Seriously?  
_  
"Sorry to disappoint," she said, not feeling the slightest bit of remorse and she walked towards the partial door.

"See you tomorrow, sheriff!"

Once she was on the outside, Emma grunted and put her face in her hands. She was already regretting everything that happened the last week.

* * *

"Are you leaving again, Emma?" David asked two days later.

It was just after noon and Emma was preparing herself to leave. She also visited the flower shop yesterday but attempted to keep her stay as short as possible.

In which she failed, royally. She stayed there for half an hour.

David didn't even know that she went there instead of getting something she forgot at home.

"Um, yeah. I'm going to drop by Granny's to eat lunch."

"Great! Could you get me something?"

Emma wasn't counting on this.

"Actually..." She stretched out the word. "I- I was planning to pay Leroy a visit after that. He was complaining about an unpaid bill."

Emma felt so guilty. It was David, the most trustworthy man she had met in her entire life, and he certainly wouldn't lie to her.

"But I can still bring you lunch."

David shook his head.

"No, you better not let Leroy waiting. It's okay. Mary Margaret made me lunch. I was just craving a Granny's burger," he admitted with a smile.

Emma laughed.

"Oh, be careful!" she said with exaggerated worry. "Mary Margaret doesn't like it when you venture on the unhealthy path."

Mary Margaret was one of the sweetest women, Emma knew. A true match to her husband. But Emma also knew that she was the current reigning champion of the local archery tournament and that underneath all of that softness, a bad-ass lady was hidden.

"Mary Margaret wouldn't do anything."

After a few seconds, the certainty on David's face made place for some doubt.

Emma didn't have any doubt.

Mary Margaret Blanchard was not someone you pick a fight with. Emma grabbed her jacket and slid her arms in the sleeves.

"I wouldn't be so sure of it."

She left the sheriff's station with that statement and just before she left she saw her coworker starting his homemade meal.

 _Good choice, David._

One part of Emma's story was indeed true.

She stopped by Granny's to order her usual, but instead of listening to Leroy's whining, like she said, she went to "Black and Bloom".

It being the fifth time she drove there, the fourth time in daylight, she could pay more attention to the scenery. Emma had to admit: she understood why someone would want to work here.

Spring had revived the forest. The hibernating animals had woken up and had returned the sound to the woods. In the midst of the green moss, small, beautiful, purple flowers brought another color to the canvas.

It did lay quite far from Main Street, but Emma was still deciding whether or not that was an advantage or a disadvantage.

So focused on the view, Emma nearly drove past the flower shop. The yellow car stopped abruptly while making a squeaking noise.

She let the sheriff car at the station, in case David needed it. And also because otherwise, he would probably ask her why she didn't just walk over to Granny's and Leroy. The two laid only a street away from each other and another block from the sheriff's station.

Emma grabbed the to-go-bag and opened the trunk to retrieve the paperwork. When she turned around, he was already standing at the entrance, waiting on her. He threw her a dashing smile.

"Sheriff Swan, I am so delighted to be graced with your presence yet again."  
 _  
Smug, stupid, British bastard.  
_  
"You can keep the advances to yourself. I'm only here to work."

She raised the hand that held the files.

"But of course. I do hope that those sheets have nothing to do with me because I already had my monthly amount of paperwork."

"Don't worry, they are all mine."

A smile appeared on Emma's face, but anyone could see that it was not a genuine one. Cynical was a better way to describe it.

She started walking towards him and he let her pass. Granny's food smelled delicious and she saw that he also caught a whiff of it. His face turned hopeful.

"You don't have some extra food with you, by any chance? I haven't had the opportunity to eat a meal myself."

"Nope."

With all of the things that she inflicted on herself the past few days, she was determined to use as less words as possible. She wasn't giving him more opportunities.

"That's too bad."

He actually looked disappointed, but Emma wasn't buying it.

"Do you want to tell me who did it and let me be on my merry way?"

"I'll tell you again, sheriff. I don't know who did this."

He had an innocent look on his face.

"Okay," she said, unconvinced, "What about the bracelet charm?"

Her left eyebrow went up.

"About that: a customer came in not long after you left yesterday and claimed it. She was very glad to be reunited with her belonging."  
 _  
God, the only thing that's coming out of his mouth right now is complete bullshit.  
_  
"Really? Wow, what are the chances? Losing your flower charm and finding it in a floristry, of all places!"

Jones saw that she wasn't falling for it.

"Right? I was amazed as well."

Jones changed the subject to relieve the hostile tension between them.

"Sheriff, what do you think of my new flowers? I had to work very hard to get these ones."

She looked at the plant, recognizing it. They looked gorgeous.

Irises.

Emma had no knowledge of botany, but she did have some on the subject of art.

 _Vincent Van Gogh  
_  
"What's that, lass?" Jones asked.

Apparently she said it out loud instead of thinking it.

"They're irises, right?"

He looked at her, half confused and half smiling.

"Yes. And I thought you were a beginner in the botanical field."

His smile grew.

"I am."

Her face stayed sincere. Emma didn't want him to think things that weren't true, but she also didn't want to give him any allusions.

"It's just... Vincent Van Gogh has a painting that I love called Irises, I recognized the flower."

She tried to downplay it, but he still picked it up.

"Hmm, I didn't peg you as an art lover, Swan."

 _Emma... Be careful! This is getting too personal.  
_  
Before she could answer, her stomach did. She laid her hand over it, feeling embarrassed.

"I'm keeping you from your lunch." he established. "There's a table in the back. If you'd like you can eat there, I'm going to work some more in here."

Emma was deliberating on his offer. She could eat in the Bug, she had done it plenty of times before, or she could drive back to the station, but then she risked having to eat cold onion rings.

What was the worst thing that could happen if she ate here?

He was waiting for her response and she couldn't think of reasons why she shouldn't.

"Through that door?" she asked and Jones nodded.

He tried to hide his smile when she walked in direction of the dark wood. Emma pretended that she didn't see it.

She opened the door and came into a large room. Just like the front of the shop, it was filled with gorgeous flowers.

Shelves with pots ran across the wall and a table, made out of the same material as the door, stood in the middle. The space was far lighter in here. Soft whites and grays were used to decorate the walls.

In the front, the name of the store was held true. The flowers contrasted the dark blue walls and black rails, but in the back, everything felt less heavy and more carefree.

Emma moved some arrangements, in order to have some room to place her files and food. She sat down on one of the two chairs that could be found next to the table and unpacked her meal.

After not long, curiosity took over and Emma stood up. Onion rings in hand, she walked around to admire the combinations of colors. She recognized a few of the more common species. There were flowers that got a thorough examination because Emma had never seen anything like them.

Some of them looked so frail, she didn't dare to touch their leaves, afraid they would break on the spot.

She sat back down on the white chair to devour her grilled cheese. She heard Jones moving things around while she ate. The last crumb disappeared into her mouth and she wiped her hands on the napkin she had next to her.

Emma decided to do some paperwork. Otherwise, she would have come here without any reason and without any progress whatsoever. The brown binder was opened and the first file came out. Now she only needed to find the pen she always carried with her (you never knew when you needed to write out a fine) and she was good to go.

When her second one was nearly finished, the florist came into the room. He didn't say anything. He walked towards the sink to wash the dark dirt off of his hands. Jones dried them and pulled out the chair opposite of her.

Emma looked up from her file and shoved the Granny's bag towards him with her pen. Puzzled, he grabbed the bag, surprised when the weight betrayed that it was, in fact, not empty. He opened it and she looked back down when the smile appeared on his face. Fries and half of the grilled cheese.

When she bought the extra food, Emma told herself that it was for David. Because it was.

Okay, he was already eating when she left and by the time she would get back the food would have lost its deliciousness. But it still was David's food.

 _Who are you kidding, Emma? You know that David prefers onion rings, just like you. And why exactly did you only eat half of your grilled cheese?_

"Thank you, Swan."

Her gaze was still fixed on the papers in front of her.

"Don't mention it," she said.

She was filling in a statement with great care. Describing every little detail on the paper, only so she didn't have to face him and make the entire situation awkward.

The sound of him eating had stopped a while ago and Emma felt his eyes on her.

She kept writing until there wasn't anything to write anymore. She had made her way through all of the sheets in a record time, regardless of her efforts to try to delay everything.

 _Really? Now's the time you work this fast? Why can't you do that when you have the night shift?  
_  
She stacked the files and put her pen on top of them. For the first time in some time, their eyes met.

"All done?" he asked.

In contrary to her earlier thought, she didn't feel uncomfortable at all. That worried her.

"Yep."

She placed her hands over her pockets in search of her phone and then finally realized she placed it in her jacket. Emma took it out and was shocked when she saw the time. She had two missed calls from David.

"I need to go."

Emma stood up, took the red jacket off the back end of the chair and stuffed her phone back in her pocket. Her two arms went to grab the files on the table and she started to walk.

It took him a second before he stood up.

"You forgot one."

Emma was caught up by him and carefully placed it on top of the others. Jones opened the door for her and she walked through it.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

He smiled at her. Emma tried not to let her hesitation show in her expression, but she was quite sure she wouldn't come back.

"David, don't worry. I'll be there in 15."

Emma hung up the phone and started the engine. The files were lying on the passenger seat next to her. She got at the station and ran inside.

In contrary to her expectations, David was calmly sitting at his desk. When he heard her, he looked up. He crossed his arms and Emma felt a storm coming.

"So, how was your trip to Leroy's?"

"Um, good. I helped him with his complaint."

She was actually planning to go listen to his problems right after the visit to the florist, but in all her haste, being afraid something terrible happened with her colleague, she forgot.

"That's quite strange. Because Leroy came by about an hour ago to order me to pay attention to him. I mean, you must understand my surprise."

 _Busted  
_  
"I'm sorry, David. I didn't really go to Leroy's."

"That much I figured. Where did you go? Because if you wanted a break, you could've just asked."

"Remember that case of destruction on Saturday?"

David's eyebrows creased while trying to recall the events.

His head nodded lightly, the movement becoming surer when the memories returned.

"Yes, the one in the flower store, right?"

"That's the one. I went there."

"But why be so secretive about it. Why lie?"

Emma didn't even know the answer to that herself.

She could have easily told David that she went to investigate the case, it _was_ the reason she went there.

"I don't know why I didn't tell you the truth. I'm sorry."

David tried to reassure her.

"I'm not that mad, Emma. Next time, just tell me."

"I will. If you want, you can go home. I have something to make up for."

"Like I'm going to do that."

He rolled out the chair next to him and pushed it towards her. He motioned toward it as an invitation. Emma sat down and for the remaining hour they worked, side by side, in an amicable silence.

"So, why visit the place that many times?"

"Five times isn't that much."

"In a week?"

The incredibility could be heard in his voice.

"I tried to figure the florist out and get him to confess something. Anything really. The suspect got away and I don't like it that he or she is running around here."

 _Good explanation, Emma. It sounds believable.  
_  
"I can help, you know."

"I do know, David. But I think I'm going to give up. It's been a week and I am not one bit further than I was at the beginning." she said as a reply.

"Do what you think is best. You still have a sheriff's instinct."

Emma was quite sure of it.

Researching the case was useless. Jones obviously didn't want it to be solved. She would never understand why, but she needed to respect his wishes, in a way. How could she help someone that refused to accept her offer?

* * *

The day began as it always did.

A quick breakfast and then, at 7:50, off to work.

David had the night shift so Emma was completely alone for the better part of the morning.

Now that David and Mary Margaret had their son Elliot, the working schedule was a big mess. Emma completely understood that he wanted to spend some more time at home.

When she worked the nights, she came to work around 6 pm. After 8 hours, she left again at 2 am. Elliot was an early riser so they adapted David's work times. When he had the night shift, he came in at noon to assist her for the span of three hours. He then returned back home and when Emma finished her day shift at 6, he came to relieve her from her responsibilities. To not suffer from a complete sleep deficit, he stopped working half an hour shy of midnight.

It was not necessary for anyone to be at the station because Storybrooke became a deserted place after the Rabbit Hole's last call.

It didn't take Emma very long to notice the dark circles that appeared under David's eyes just after the birth and when she mentioned them, he pretended they were nothing. He already didn't want to take any paternity leave because that would mean that Emma had to handle everything alone. After countless yawns on David's behalf, she proposed this system and David's face lit up with joy.

He could finally sleep.

The key slid into the lock and Emma commenced her day. The clock tower's bells could be heard in the office and they eventually went off 12 times. David walked in, like on cue, and greeted her. She smiled back and stood up to fill her mug.

When she became sheriff, she soon discovered that coffee is a requirement to live. Just like oxygen or food. It was her fourth time getting a refill since her shift started. The cup of steaming, black liquid was placed next to the prehistoric thing they called a computer.

About ten minutes ago Emma tried to view some surveillance cameras of the library. She had received a distressed call from Belle, saying that she saw a wolf on the road. Emma was wary of the statement, but Belle was an honest and sane person.

She wouldn't lie to a sheriff.

The files had been loading for those ten minutes and the blue part didn't even fill up half of the bar yet.

Emma took a sip of the coffee.

Too soon because she slightly burned her tongue while doing so.  
Could there be an actual wolf in Storybrooke? They do have a forest, but this is the first sighting of a wolf, ever. Maybe she could consult the old town records. There could be something in there.

She called Belle back and asked if she could come by.

"But of course, Emma!" the Australian voice answered and Emma was on her way.

She returned half an hour later with several folders Belle gave her.

It appeared that there was indeed a wolf seen once, just over 28 years ago.

Emma recalled some details of her fifth-grade presentation about them, so she knew it couldn't be the same one, but possibly a descendant? Emma took a look at the screen and the file was fully loaded.

 _Finally!  
_  
She fasted the tape forward until she saw the white creature. Belle did see it correctly.

It was a magnificent animal and most definitely a wild one.

However, when Belle walked towards the library, not knowing that the hunter was there, it didn't attack. It stood silently while the panicking librarian ran inside and after a few more seconds of staying in the same pose, it ran towards the woods.

"Emma?"

David's voice returned Emma from her thoughts and observations.

"Hmm?"

David looked at the clock.

"It's one pm. Are you not getting lunch and then visiting the florist?"

Emma followed his look and the clock arrows did indeed mark the one and the twelve that stood on its left. She shook her head.

"I told you. I'm not returning there, that case is closed to me."

She tried to say as lightly as possible, not to raise suspicions.

"Alright, but you should eat. Coincidentally, Mary Margaret gave me two servings of her delicious and freshly baked spinach and salmon quiche."

David held up two wide triangles wrapped in tin foil.

"I guess I could live a day without grilled cheese."

Emma grabbed the package and placed on a plate.

David was right: the quiche was indeed incredible. Maybe she should let Mary Margaret cook more meals.

She had received one more worried call from Ruby. She too had spotted the white wolf.

Emma didn't really know what to do about it.

The animal seemed harmless for now, so why chase it?

David had left for home and she found herself alone, yet again.

In the solitude, her thoughts went to Jones. Would he care that she didn't show up today?

 _Of course he doesn't care, Emma. The man has seen you a handful of times. Well, more because you are a public figure and he is a citizen of Storybrooke._

In her train of thoughts, Emma noticed something.

How come she hadn't seen him before?

Storybrooke's inhabitants were limited to a few hundred that constantly circulated around Main Street. Plus, she was quite sure that would remember a face like his, even from just crossing him in the street. Emma was considering to ask around, but why would she do that if the whole ordeal was finished?

She should just forget everything that happened.

Emma did do that for the remainder of the day and for the rest of the week, she kept the act up as well.

* * *

Saturday morning, her last early shift of the week on, there was a box standing in front of the door when she arrived at the station. There was no one in the perimeter of 10 yards and it seemed quite harmless. Emma stuffed her keys in her back pocket to free her hands of everything and the packet was gently lifted off the front step. Once inside, the content was revealed.

The same flowers she had admired a few days earlier.

A little card was attached to it with the shop's name printed in a small, black font at the bottom. A clean handwriting filled the rest of the space. The written letters had the same color as the blue petals on the flower. She read the message.

 ** _You were right. Irises is indeed a gorgeous painting. It seemed fit to offer you these for all of your help._**

He sent her flowers.

He actually made the effort to send her flowers. She had to admit that it was his profession, but still.

He even searched for the work of art she mentioned once.

The right thing to do now was personally thanking him. Was she up for that?

She didn't have any need for complex situations in her life and she had a feeling that this would become one.

There was also the thing of him constantly lying to her. Her gut was willing to trust him, weirdly enough, when her mind said the complete opposite.

Emma took the flowers out of the cardboard and placed them on her desk. She had these beautiful flowers, it would be a waste to throw them away.

"How was your shift on Saturday?" Emma asked David Monday evening.

Saturday was the last time they had seen each other.

The station was closed on Sundays and Emma and David worked from home, if it was necessary.

"Calm, as usual." He smiled. "What did you do?"

Emma's Saturday and Sunday consisted of absolutely nothing exciting.

"I started reading a new book: "In the Name of the Rose". Have you read it before?"

When she mentioned the title, it sparked something in David's brain.

"Wait. Something did happen. The alarm of the flower shop at the border of town went off again, but before I could leave, the owner called and said that he made a mistake while tapping in the code."  
 _  
You have to be fucking kidding me right now._

There was not a doubt in Emma's mind that said that Jones actually entered the wrong code.

"David..."

Emma hated that she was asking this.

"Could you stay for a half hour longer?"

Emma always came 20 minutes before her evening shift started so she could catch up with David, so she already had that time.

"Yeah, no problem. Mary Margaret took Elliot to a Mommy and Me class and she's not returning for another hour."

How Emma got so lucky with her coworker, she would never understand.

"Thank you so much, David! If you're in need of a babysitter for the little prince, don't hesitate to call me. I have to repay you in some way."

"I'll keep that in mind," David said.

His tone betrayed that he was most definitely calling her in the near future.

She walked to the parking lot and drove to the border. He wasn't closed yet, so Emma walked in. The interior design changed yet again.

It betrayed that the place was probably damaged another time.

"Mr. Jones?" she called.

She had a feeling he was locking up the back.

"Yes, what- Ah the lost sheriff has returned. Glad to see you again. I did already tell you to call me Killian."

Emma partially ignored his request.

"It was the same person, right?"

"I am afraid I'm a bit lost as to what you are referring."

"Don't play games. Saturday?"

"Oh, I would've thought your companion informed you of the situation. I merely made an error while entering the security code."

"Oh, so the redecoration in here was just for fun? Mr.-"

He interrupted her before she could pronounce his last name and raised his eyebrow.

"What did I say just now? It's Killian."

"Alright, _Killian,_ " She emphasized his name. "This is the second time in one week. This is not safe anymore. Someone clearly has it out for you and I don't think they'll stop before they get what they want. The only thing I need to know is who and why."

Emma was actually pleading with him. Jones turned his head sideways.

"Did you get my flowers?"

 _Here we go.  
_  
"Yes, I got them, thank you."

"Don't mention it. Did you like them?"

Apparently, he wasn't satisfied with her brief answer.

"They are nice flowers."

"Why didn't you come back?"

He seemed hurt. How she managed to that, is unknown. She only came by a few times.

It's not like they had this promise and she broke it. Four times wasn't a promise.

Emma shrugged.

"It was clear that you weren't going to tell me anything. Why would I keep coming back?"

"So you're saying that you didn't have a good time?"

And the interrogation continued.

What was she supposed to answer?

She did like being here, but there wasn't a specific reason why this place was more special than the station. You did have the flowers, but paperwork here is quite the same as paperwork back there. They didn't have deep conversations or anything. They barely even spoke except for her asking about the vandalization and him ignoring her questions.

The longer Emma tried to devalue everything, the more she took notion of small things that happened.

Jones who nearly tripped over a crate on the ground, then attempted to slow himself down by grabbing counter and failing big time. He fell on his back with his arms and legs spread. It looked like he was making a snow angel on the hard, wooden floor. Emma had no choice but to laugh and when he heard her giggle, he chuckled as well. He muttered an ouch and went right back to laughing. Emma held out a hand for him to stand up and when she left Tuesday, she left with a smile on her face.

On Monday, when she was walking back to her car, Emma couldn't find her keys. After frantically searching her pockets, she returned to the entrance. Just before she stepped inside, she noticed the keys lying on the ground. Suddenly Jones' voice could be overheard.

He was singing.

Emma froze for a second and during that second she recognized the words of "Redemption Song." She had to give it to him, he knew his classics and his voice didn't sound awful.

At all.

She hurried back to work after that.

 _Emma, don't let him fool you. He's just playing tricks on you. Nothing extraordinary happened.  
_  
Her mind returned to the question he asked.

"I was just doing my job. It was alright, I guess."

He clearly didn't like that answer.

"Bloody hell. Lass, be honest."

"Jones, I don't know what you concluded out of this situation, but I don't think I had the same one."

Emma checked her phone and saw that she had to return. "I have to leave. Just- Just watch out, alright?"

"Can I ask you one more thing? Why do you care?"

For the first time, Emma was completely honest.

"I don't know."

When Emma came to take over the next day, David handed her another box.

It looked exactly the same as the first one did and David threw her an insinuating look. He had noticed the irises on her desk and knew all too well that Emma wasn't a person that kept flowers. Period.

He hung around for some time but when it became clear that she wasn't going to open the box in front of him, he left. She folded it open and again a blue plant appeared. Another card was added.

 ** _Lesson 1: Agapanthus Africanus, also known as Lily of the Nile, even though it isn't a real lily. Plant in a sunny place with a lot of room and before you know it, she will flourish._**

Emma checked the box but there was nothing else written on. She unquestionably knew who it was from, but she was searching for any indication that it was delivered here. There wasn't any to be found. That meant that this was the second time he drove all the way to the office to bring her flowers. Emma didn't know what to do with this information.

The two following days, two more boxes were dropped off.

 ** _Lesson 2: Hibiscus Rosa-sinensis or China Rose. This flower comes in many color variations and is actually edible. This Hibiscus flower makes a great office plant._**

 ** _Lesson 3: Dianthus caryophyllus or carnation. The Latin name derives from the Greek words dios and anthos, meaning the godly flower. She got this name because of her beauty._**

Emma's desk was now filled with flowers and the only way to make them stop was to go see him.

She had to admit that she did like them, but he had spent all of this work on her and it was just too much.

After sleeping in and slowly eating breakfast, she left in the Bug. Her hands struggled to keep everything in place when she stumbled into the shop.

"Lass?" he asked.

Emma placed the two boxes on the table.

"I'm giving them back."

"They're yours. I told you I was going to teach you some botany, so that's how I'm doing it."

"I don't want them."

His lips formed a perfect round and remorse appeared on his face.

"I apologize if I made unwanted approaches. I only wanted to thank you at first and I thought you didn't mind them. I'll stop with the flowers."

Emma needed to explain.

"Wait, I do like the flowers, they are amazing, but receiving them at work is a bit too much. I have a floral army. I'm also not paying for them so it just seemed a bit unfair to me. You are personally dropping them off, you shouldn't waste your time on me while your shop is being terrorized."

"Terrorized is a big word and also, Swan, it isn't unfair if they are gifts. It was my pleasure."

He slightly approached her.

 _Oh no. Something is going to happen.  
_  
"But if you like the botanical lessons, you can always come by again. After having you here for days, I must admit that I have slightly missed your presence."

 _This is going so wrong.  
_  
His face was quite close now. The black hair was swept over his forehead. She could make out the lighter hairs of his scruff. His eyes were surrounded with laughing crinkles.

A small dimple appeared on his cheek. Emma was staring into his eyes and was drowning. She acknowledged his statement with a small nod.  
 _  
This has to stop!  
_  
"Ready to tell me what happened here both Saturdays?"

A last-minute attempt to rescue herself.

"Sheriff Swan, using your charms to get information. That isn't very ethical."

He was still standing close to her, but suddenly she felt the need to get rid of the separation completely.

"Screw ethical."

She grabbed him by the collar of his black sweater and pressed her lips against his.


	3. Chapter 3

**I officially apologize for taking two months to update this fic. I don't really have an excuse (okay maybe school and exams and the holidays count), but I can already promise that it won't take another two months to update. This chapter is in celebration of the first anniversary of The Words video clip (which was yesterday but eh).  
**  
He tasted like coffee.

That was the first thing Emma noticed. With her, the slightest trace of cinnamon remained on the edge of her lips. A hot chocolate as company for her breakfast. The cinnamon added by her mixed with the bitterness on his.

The second thing she noticed was how he could combine passion and gentleness in only one kiss. The intensity of their lips crashing together was countered by his hand combing through her hair. The heavy breathing was overpowered by the thudding of his heart under Emma's fingers. Her shirt had slipped up a bit and left a bare patch of skin just above her hip. It didn't take long for Killian's other hand to settle there. His thumb made a small, circular motion on her skin and it did nothing except kindle her insides. They took a few steps back until Emma bumped a table. Both of his hands moved to her face.

 _Alright. That's enough fun. You're the sheriff, not a horny teenager_.

Emma didn't want the kiss to stop. She liked it. Enjoyed it even. She might not be a teenager but it had been a while and Killian was breathtaking. At least as breathtaking were his kissing skills. There was no part of her mouth left unexplored. Nevertheless, Emma still felt as if there were so many things to be discovered. Things she wanted to discover.

Strange.

It was not like her. To give into genuine interest in someone? No, never. She let people come to her and even then. Only a few got to know her. Why was it different with him? She had known him for less than two weeks and she was already having a gigantic make out session with him.

 _Keeping your distance, huh? Job well done._

She removed her hands from his chest and as soon as she did, it felt like they were not supposed to leave that place. The rapid beating of his heart and her covering, protecting it. Emma's hands went above his and took them off her own cheeks.

The movement made Killian open his eyes and the kiss slowed down. The blue irises each surrounded a wide, enlarged pupil. The lust could be read as clear as a billboard. Bright, neon letters flickering. He met her eyes and the brightness dimmed down. There was still a light but different. Embers. Still full of warmth and softly glowing. Their lips slowly parted, but Killian still stayed in front of her. Black locks met blonde when their foreheads touched. The only thing that came out of their mouths were breaths. It was a quite a kiss to recover from.

"That was...," Killian finally said. Emma opened her eyes and looked at his face. "...stupefying. In the best way possible."

Every fraction of his face, however small it may've been, was gleaming. By taking a step backwards, Killian finally gave Emma a chance to stand back up from the table. He shouldn't think this meant something to her. It would be another commitment and one she really didn't need. His eyes were crinkled by the grin on his face. A soft sigh escaped her mouth.

"It probably shouldn't happen again," she said, but remained where she was.

Close to him. Only a little step away from their lips touching once more. Still able to feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. The joy soon disappeared from his face and it is him who widened the space between them. The cold found Emma, taking its chance once the heat Killian emitted was gone.

"Why not?"

The question took her by surprise. She was expecting him just to leave her alone and let her leave but Killian clearly had other plans.

"Because ... it's- It's unprofessional."

The expression on his face showed he was not impressed by her answer.

"Lass, you're not wearing your badge which means you are not on duty. No feeble excuses, please." Killian noticed the absence of her badge.

Though she shouldn't be amazed. She was surrounded by evidence of his eye for detail. Flowers so small that only a delicate hand could handle then. Bouquets that looked purple but when you came closer the individual blues and reds became visible. Flowers placed on just the right spot to maintain the balance between the two colors.

"I don't know."

It seemed like spending time with Killian gave her a lot of questions and lately "I don't know" had become a standard answer to a lot of those.

"You are the one who kissed me."

"I know that."

Her hand grabbed her forehead. It was the first sign of her frustration. Not with Killian but with herself. Again she sighed.

"Why are you so afraid to reveal yourself?"

Emma shrugged and let her shoulders drop again. She kept her gaze on the dark wood below her feet. She knew the answer.

Of course she did but to admit it was more complicated. Especially to someone she hasn't even known for over two weeks.

"Emma."

It interrupted her staring at the ground. She looked back up to him.

It was the first time Killian called her by her first name. It had always been lass or Swan or sheriff before but now she was Emma. It was her name. People called her that daily, but there was something unusual about the way he said it. The sincerity in his voice. His British lilt flowing over the vowels. It was a beautiful sound, one she could hear a thousand times more.

"I understand that it probably isn't a pleasant story. Do not feel obliged to tell me."

The distance he had created narrowed with a step he took and instead of pushing her, he left it.

"I'd like to show you something. Can you allow me that?"

Emma couldn't see or hear any alarms going off in her head, so it cautiously nodded. A small smile formed on Killian's lips. He put up his index and middle finger.

"Give me two seconds."

He turned his back and went to the back room. Emma was left standing there, still pressed against the table, counting the seconds he was gone. The door opened again and Killian walked towards her. Her eyebrows creased, he didn't bring anything with him.

"Didn't you want to show me something?"

He nodded.

"I did. That's why I got these." His hands raised the pair of keys. "We first need to take a drive."

Emma wasn't expecting this. She thought he would just show her the thing and then she could go back home to think about her next move.

Apparently her eyes showed her surprise and maybe also a little bit of the panic she was feeling.

"Emma, if you don't want to, you don't have to come. I'm not going to force you. It's up to you. All you have to do is trust me."

And she did, strangely enough.

 _Emma, do not go with him. Just go home._

"I need to be back at five."

Emma Swan had just made a rebellious move. She was done listening to her brain. It felt like it was time to let her heart lead for a while, her mind had for years. Maybe some change would do good.

"Perfect. If you'd follow me."

He opened the front door and let her pass. Emma waited until he had locked the flower shop.

"My car is around the back."

She followed the sound that his steps made on the small stones. His truck was very similar to David's. The same brown color and as far as Emma could tell, the same model. This one was filled with wooden crates in the back. Killian got behind the wheel. The seatbelt made a click when Emma fastened it.

"So where are we going?"

"Out of town," Killian answered.

"You know that's exactly what a murderer would say." Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Is it? How many murderers have committed a crime in Storybrooke since you became sheriff?"

No thinking was needed for her answer.

"None, but that still doesn't exclude the chance that one could happen or for me to have a common sense of danger." Killian laughed.

"Alright, but you as sheriff must agree that taking someone who has spent a lot of time with me the last few weeks to my house and killing her there isn't the best approach."

"Your house, huh?" It was time to leave the conversation about killing.

"Or more specifically: the flower house," he replied.

The rest of the drive was a calm silence. They had been driving for over 40 minutes when the car left the highway and turned left on a small road. It led to an incredibly big house. Something she was not expecting with Killian. He stopped the car before it and stepped out. Emma was still staring at the building when her door was opened by Killian. Her head was turned.

"This is your house?" she said with disbelief.

"Welcome," he said while Emma got out of the car. "Let's go to the flowers."

The entire walk along the house Emma spent wondering how a florist could afford this. Killian was single and alone and it was a huge house. Emma had been working with a steady income as the sheriff for over 4 years and she was still stuck in her small apartment. They reached the glass construction. It wasn't completely see through but because of the colors of the flowers on the inside, it became stained glass.

"Ready?" Killian grinned at her while she nodded.

The door made a squeak when Killian opened it. Emma's eyes widened by the sight of the vibrant flowers. It wasn't really the beauty of the flowers that caused her awe, she had been a witness to that every time she stepped into the shop. It was the quantity of the blooming petals. Rows and rows of any flower you could imagine stood in the greenhouse. Whereas it looked small from the exterior, the insides showed the true size of the building.

"Wow. Beautiful," Emma said.

"Can I interest you in helping me harvest some flowers?"

"Show me how it's done."

She took off her jacket and rolled her sleeves up.

The next half hour Killian explained which flowers he needed and the best way to harvest each species and after that Emma was good to go. The silence was pierced by Killian humming a familiar tune. It didn't take long before the hum turned into soft singing. Emma smiled while moving a lily into a vase.

The easiness she first felt in the back room of the floristry had returned. His voice was gently echoed by the glass and filled the entire room. Killian changed to another song, this time one that Emma didn't know but when he sang, she decided: the first thing she would do once she got home was look it up. It sounded, or at least Killian made it sound, very melodious.

He caught her stare and stopped singing. His hand went right behind his ear to scratch.

"It's a habit of mine to sing while working."

"Don't stop on my account, you sound amazing."

Suddenly shyness took over and Emma even spotted some redness on his cheeks. He opened his mouth to reply but failed to. It was refreshing to see him like this, instead of his usual, quick-witted self. Emma snickered to herself.

"Why did you want to show me the flowers? I've seen them in the shop, haven't I?"

Emma didn't see any reason why they had to drive all the way out here to admire the blossoms. Killian raised his shoulders. He owed her an answer for a long time but he finally decided to pay his debt.

"I needed to get some flowers for an order and I believe that I didn't want you to leave. You probably weren't coming back if you did."

Hearing him say that, made Emma realize that he was completely right. She wasn't planning on returning, she actually had decided that last week, but failed to stick to it. Her presence in the flower house was a testimony to that.

"But I could also use some help. I have received a big purchase and some help could do no wrong," Killian continued.

Emma's bare hands were stuffing a crate with soil and the dirt was collecting itself in the small edge of her nails.

"Happy to help."

There was no sense of time in the glass shed. Just flowers, dirt and the occasional wipe of the forehead. It was hard labor, moving the flowers and crates, cleaning up the mess you made. Emma couldn't understand how Killian did this all by himself. A small strand of hair fell out of the messy bun she made before starting. She tried to blow the lock off her face but to no avail, it remained stubbornly in its place.

"Emma, it's four o'clock, we should better return," Killian said to her.

"Good idea."

Emma wiped her hands to rid her hands of any dirt crumbs still on her hands but they both still had a dark color. Water was the only thing that would help with that. Her clothes had several stains on them. Good that she didn't wear her white sweater today.

When they got back, she should better stop by her apartment to change and maybe even take a shower before swapping places with David at the station.

After freshening up, she got back in the car with Killian. It hit her that she hadn't seen the house from the inside or even up close. Too bad, she already prepared the questions he was going to be flooded with. Maybe next time.

 _Next time? Who are you and what have you done with Emma?_

The radio was softly buzzing on the background, the spring wind controlling the movement of her long hair. She had turned the round button of the car radio with a purpose, to hear Killian sing again. However, he figured out her intentions and, just to annoy her, kept both of his lips shut. The faint noises of Nina Simone found her ears and she raised the volume with a shine on her face.

"I love this song."

Killian noticed the spark because it didn't take long for his eyes to reproduce the shimmer. The light tap of his fingers on the steering wheel betrayed that he knew the song and it didn't take long for his voice to return. Emma closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. Her mouth had become a big smile.

The car drove on the stones near the shop and the doors opened with a swing. Both of her feet hit the ground at the same time and a small shock reverberated through Emma's body. Killian came to her side of the car and grinned at her.

"I have to thank you for your help today, Swan, and I hope you can accept this as a token of my appreciation." Killian put his hands before Emma and opened them, revealing three small forget me nots. He placed them in her hands.

They were flowers but Emma saw the message behind them. Not that it was hard to figure it out. The name literally said it.

"They also match your tattoo, if I'm correct."

Emma didn't answer his question. She was relying on touch to do that. Killian clearly was taken aback when Emma's lips suddenly found themselves on his again. She had to hand it to him, he recovered fast and kissed her back with intensity. Emma broke up the kiss, only because she needed to leave. She couldn't be late again.

"I need to go," she breathed more than spoke.

Separating their bodies, she walked towards her car. Her key slid in the lock, opened the yellow door for her but before she got in, Emma turned around to say goodbye to him.

"Bye, Killian."

"Bye."

He looked dumbfounded. With her expression, she tried to transmit a message, an important one. If he had received it, she didn't know, but he probably would when he found the little blue flower in his shirt.

She should let her heart take control more often.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I seriously hate the fact that it did take me another two months to update. I'm sorry everyone! I really wasn't in the writing mood for quite some time but I think it's sorta back. So, without further ado, here's the new chapter. ~4200 words to make up for those two months**

Her stomach felt upset but in a good way. The feeling of excitement running through it, nervousness spinning circles and longing clenching her abdomen.

It had only been three days since Emma last saw Killian and still she missed him, needed to see him and wanted to be in his company.

She was supposed to hate feeling like this, but she didn't. She loved it.

Her plans to spend Saturday with him went down the drain when David decided he would use her earlier suggestion of babysitting on baby Elliot. Emma couldn't refuse. David was too kindhearted and forgiving to not do this small favor for him. Therefore, she went and actually had fun. The kid was so very sweet and didn't cry once. Babbling, though, that he did with loads. Emma placed him on her upper legs and made funny faces at him. The babbling was soon accompanied by a very broad smile.

It might not have been her first choice to go babysit, but Emma didn't mind one bit.

Her nose inhaled a calming breath that returned through her mouth.

As always, the bell rang when she entered. Emma quickly looked around but there was no one in the front. Her ears picked up the noise of footsteps. Fast ones.

The door swung open and in came Killian, nearly falling with the speed he was entering. His hands were able to prevent him dropping on the ground by grabbing the counter.

Emma raised her hand to partially cover the smile gracing her lip. A giggle still escaped. Killian tried to regain his composure.

"I must admit that I'll gladly embarrass myself if it meant to hear you laugh," he said while grinning. "Welcome back. I was wondering when you would return."

He discarded the apron that was tied around his neck and quickly folded it. Killian walked alongside the counter and approached Emma.

"Were you now?"

Emma tilted her head and her blond locks followed.

It would seem that Killian liked her company as well.

"Yes. I kind of missed you?" Killian admitted.

Her hands crossed in front of Emma's chest and her brows rose.

"Kind of?" she questioned.

"Alright, I really missed you," he said. His blue eyes went to the ceiling, avoiding her gaze.

A surge of happiness was blasted through Emma by Killian's confession.

"Good, because I missed you too," she replied.

The instant she said, Killian's eyes lowered to hers. His gaze was one full of incredulity. Like he couldn't believe she was being genuine.

But she actually was. It had been a big change for Emma too.

Her torn apart heart needed mending. She was tired of the constant aching. Of the distance it formed between her and other people.

It was quite ironic but the only way to heal was to let someone in, the thing that had caused all of the damage that was currently residing in the left part of her chest. Her mind was so cautious, making sure her heart was always protected but her heart didn't mind the risk.

Emma had reduced her walls. They were still there, probably always would be, but now it was far easier for someone to access her. Or at least see her.

Her lips curled into a smile.

"Swan, it's bad form to deceive a man."

"Good thing that I'm not then. Anyway, I can do what I want and right now, I want to kiss you."

Emphasizing her words, Emma licked her lips. Killian's eyes immediately followed the movement and Emma smiled seductively.

"Then I have no other choice than to oblige your wishes."

Three of Killian's steps closed the distance between their two bodies. She instantly ran her hands through his black strands. Emma sensed his on her hips.

Emma should kiss him more often. The sensational buzz of electricity their touch of lips created was highly addictive. It ran across her mouth, to her head, in her heart and any other part in Emma's body.

It was a succession of him taking the lead, Emma claiming back control by nipping Killian's lower lip, their tongues savoring each other again and again.

Eventually, they slowed down, neither of them fulfilled, but both conscious of what would ensue if they continued.

"Did you get my message?" Emma said to divert attention from the swollen lips and heavy breathing.

"Do you mean the flower in my pocket?" Emma nodded and Killian continued. "I did then. What exactly did it mean?"

Emma shrugged, dropping her shoulders carelessly.

"Nothing special."

In reality, it meant quite a lot. She liked Killian. Emma really liked Killian. But she wasn't ready to tell Killian that. So Emma just left the flower. To give him something, at least.

"Oh, alright." Killian smirked and Emma smirked back.

 _He's seeing right through you._

"Not hungry by any chance?" she asked, feeling the emptiness of her stomach herself.

"Did you bring food?" he answered.

His face was lit up by astonishment, his lips were adorned by a joyous smile.

"That is why I li- why you're so amazing."

He was able to rapidly cover up his slip, but Emma still heard it.

It didn't freak her out as much as she thought it would.

 _And why would that be?_

"I'd like to think so myself. It's in my car, I'll go get it." She turned her back to him and walked back to the yellow car.

The bag of Granny's food was standing upright against the passenger seat. Emma stretched her arm to grab it by its fold in the paper. The car door closed again and her boots went back inside. Killian had vanished anew, but Emma knew he was in the backroom. She stepped inside the hidden part of the floristry and saw Killian clearing a last flowerpot off the table.

"Now we have some room to eat," he told Emma as an explanation. Her head approved and they both sat down on the chairs set around the table.

"How was your weekend?"

The way he asked it was cautious, trying not to cross the undefined line. The blurry divide they moderately kept between their lives. It made that Emma didn't even know much about Killian and he wasn't aware of all things Emma Swan.

Opening the white bag, Emma thought of her answer. She unveiled the burger and fries, meant for Killian and her grilled cheese and onion rings.

"It was calm. I babysat on David's son," Emma said. She quickly added, "David is my co-sheriff."

Killian's hands went to take his share of the meal, lingering just a tad longer on hers than necessary. After setting it down on the table, he spoke.

"Swan, I know who David is. I _do_ live in town."

"You _don't_ live in town," Emma said while creasing her eyebrows.

They crossed the border sign and the town line with it when they visited the greenhouse. She was sure of it.

"You work here, but your house is not a part of Storybrooke anymore."

Killian's eyes widened slightly with the awareness of his statement. It's a bit strange that he made that kind of mistake. Nevertheless, he recovered fast and treated the error as if it was nothing.

"Where I live is adjacent enough to Storybrooke to know its workings." He popped a fry into his mouth. "And to know the people I shouldn't aggravate."

It was clear that with "people" Killian meant David and herself. You didn't want to get on Emma's bad side, that was correct, but they weren't the scariest people in town. Regina, for instance, was not someone to trifle with. She was a hell of a mayor, but she also scared the living shit out of people.

So David and Emma were there to be the people's spokespeople. A kind, familiar face Storybrooke's residents could talk to and trust and the two sheriffs would report back to their mayor.

Emma lifted one corner of her mouth.

"And still you decided to annoy the sheriff."

The face in front of her mirrored her smile and added some glistening eyes to it.

"But you see, Swan, every time you step in here, you stop being the sheriff. I have no problem with teasing Emma."

This was the best moment to take a bite from her previously untouched food. Hiding her face from him, together with the blush that enriched Emma's cheeks. His gaze kept focusing on her, watching her eat her food, waiting on some kind of reaction on her part.

Set on not conceding, Emma treated her grilled cheese as if it had been the first time she had ever seen one. Eventually, Killian gave up and went back to his meal.

"And your weekend?" Emma asked, the redness of her cheeks slowly fading away.

"Tranquil, a customer or two. I did a little paperwork."

The setting of his features reaffirmed his distaste for the activity.

"Doesn't that get lonely?"

Her question prompted Killian to find her green eyes again.

"Spending most of your time alone, I mean."

When his gaze didn't falter and not a word was formed by his lips, Emma continued.

"You see, I'm not really an incredibly social person either, that's mainly David's forte, but after spending a weekend or so alone at home, I usually yearn for some company and I'll gladly come to work even if it meant filling in reports or being bored out of my mind, because everything is better with some good company."

It didn't take more than 10 words in her unusually long and rattled sentence for Emma to become aware of what she was saying. Or what she was unraveling.

That was part of the reason Killian wanted her here. Why Killian was so persistent to keep her company; he just didn't have anyone else. Not a soul to talk to, no one to just have a quiet dinner with or endlessly banter with.

A bizarre feeling sank in her stomach. It was sad. He was alone.

Emma was too, but she still had David, Mary Margaret, and Elliot to sometimes join and if she needed a good drink, she knew to call Will and spend some time at the Rabbit Hole.

"I'm used to it," Killian said. His eyes kept the connection between Emma and him. She didn't dare to look away, to cut the link between them. "It's been like this for a while, but I do have to tell you that if I would have to return to such a solitary life at the moment, I would certainly be missing something."

 _Or someone_

The intensity of the stare ebbed away and a new flow of gentleness ran between them. They had unconsciously gravitated towards each other and the touch of their noses was only inches away. The azure rounds descended to Emma's lips and slowly found their way back, taking in every detail of her face; the curve of her cheeks, her narrow nose, the set of small freckles covering the space between her eyes, her hair, partially swept over her forehead.

Even though they weren't touching, it felt as if he had just ran his skilled fingers over her face. Examining her like one of the flowers they were enclosed by, carefully brushing his thumb over the soft surface. It made Emma flush. Just him looking at her made her feel things she hadn't for ages.

It was impossible to put a number on the time they watched each other. It could have been a number of seconds or minutes and Emma could not recall who eventually closed the distance between them, but when the gap was gone, Emma became serene. Balanced.

For once, her brain stopped worrying and stopped playing the role of overprotective guard. Her hand moved over his scruffy jaw and into his raven hair, a copy of the gesture he had done just before. They were taking their time, no trace of the hurry their previous kisses showed. So, when they drifted apart, there were no heavy breaths. It was simply the continuation of what they were doing before. Sitting in a comfortable silence, both of their faces lit up by smiles Emma and Killian were trying to hide from each other.

The food on the table was now fluctuating somewhere between lukewarm and cold, but it would be a pity to let a serving of grilled cheese and onion rings go to waste. Emma bit in the sandwich and set it back down on the plate. She reached for her phone, not having something to do in mind, but more to check it. She pressed the home button and the screen lit up. A picture that she once took of a swan in the pond of the town park appeared. Above it, the time.

"Shit!" Emma exclaimed.

Killian's worried gaze found her.

"I have to be at the station in 4 minutes. Oh god, I'm going to be late again."

She hastily stood up and left the rest of the grilled cheese on her plate. Her hair whipped with the movement of her head searching for anything she could forget.

"I'm never going to be on time. David is going to kill me."

How did that happen every time she was here?

"Emma?" Killian said. When Emma responded to her name by turning her head, the. The warmth of his eyes was like a flame heating a bowl of water, making her worry slowly evaporate. "Relax. I'll drive you. My truck is far faster than your vehicle. You just have to promise me something."

"What?" Emma replied cautiously.

He flashed his teeth in a dazzling grin and the corners of Emma's mouth instantly turned upwards, without even knowing what the smile was about.

"You won't give me a ticket for speeding, sheriff Swan."

Emma had to suppress every urge to roll her eyes, intensely sigh or even to broaden the smile on her face because she knew anyone of those would lead to an even bigger cockiness on Killian's behalf. So, she just took her jacket and put it on.

"I won't, let's just call this an emergency. But we really need to get going," Emma urged him. If they didn't leave this instant, they would still be late, in spite of Killian's efforts.

"Go ahead. I'll quickly lock up shop." His hand gave her the keys and Emma started walking outside.

It took Killian at total of 48 seconds to join her in the car and 27 seconds to drive the truck on the road. Emma anxiously watched the minutes on her phone tick away. She seriously couldn't miss the start of her shift again. David surely wanted to return to home and if she was late again, she was burdening him once more.

Eyes focused on the fast disappearing road, Killian spoke.

"What time does your shift end?"

"Six," she answered, still glued to the mobile screen.

"Alright, I'll come pick you up."

 _Oh this is starting to resemble a relationship too much_

Why would he come pick her up? They didn't make plans for a date.

Was he insinuating a date? They hadn't put a label on the relationship. Emma didn't even consider it anything close to a relationship. They were just kissing and occasionally spending time together. Was that enough to be seen as an actual relationship? With dates and such? Was this his way of saying he considered it a relationship?

"I don't think that's necessary," Emma said. Rather than to see the time, she gazed at the screen to avoid crossing Killian's blue eyes. She felt no need to see his reaction, to be aware of the disappointment that surely lived in his expression now that she rejected him.

"Swan, your car is still at my shop. How else are you getting home?" He tore his look of the road and flickered it towards Emma.

If Emma was interested in her phone before, she was fascinated by it now. Her attention completely occupied by it, while her cheeks reddened.

 _How many embarrassing mistakes can you make in his company?_

Emma had no idea but the answer was a lot, apparently.

"Oh yeah. Great, no problem," came out of her mouth, spoken in a mumbled way.

Two minutes and 16 seconds after her break ended, Killian stopped the car in front of the sheriff's station. As soon as it halted, Emma unlocked her seat belt and jumped out of the car.

"I really need to go, but thank you, Killian. You're a life saver."

She didn't give him the time to properly answer, to say that he didn't mind, because she ran inside. It would have to wait until tonight.

True to his character, David didn't mention Emma's delay. He merely smiled, wished her a great remaining shift and returned home.

"Emma."

Emma turned her head to the source of the noise. David, hanging his dark brown jacket on the coat rack, smiled at her and stepped in her direction.

"Oh, hey David. Is it six already?"

Emma illuminated her phone and saw that it was indeed 5.59 pm. She glanced back at the file before her, not completely filled in with the information that was necessary, so she continued writing.

"Emma," David said again, "You're free to go, your shift is done."

"I know," Emma replied. "But I just need to quickly complete this file about that comic book that went missing out of Dark Star."

Yes, that's what Emma did when bored, writing reports about comic books and chocolate bars that were suspectedly stolen.

"Alright, but tell that to the man sitting in a copy of my car, just waiting in it for the last…" David interrupted his sentence to bare his wrist and the watch on there. "... 7 minutes."

Emma hastily stood up and went to the partially blinded window. David spoke the truth, because when Emma looked out of it she saw Killian, parked in front of the station, his head softly bobbing on the rhythm of the music he was most definitely listening.

 _Dating_

"Right," Emma said, not knowing what else she could comment on the scene before her.

David came to stand next to her.

"Is that who I think it is?" he said, his tone betraying the rhetoric nature of his question. Emma still decided to deflect the insinuation.

"I have no idea what or who you're talking about."

She turned back around to her desk and sat down to put the finishing touches on the report.

"Really? Because I have a feeling that's the florist. Remember him? The man you were clearly interested in?"

It was strange to hear David talk like that. Normally it was Mary Margaret who asked these kind of questions and who was so very interested in Emma's life. David was the quiet one, the one that didn't need to know a lot.

"Huh, not a clue."

Her shoulders rose in a shrug.

"Alright, but I'll have you know that Killian and I have become "mates"."

David took a seat at his own desk himself.

 _Hold on. David and Killian talked? When? Why? Where?_

"David…" Emma watched him and the smug smile on his face. "Tell me."

David instantly caught on as to what Emma was referring.

"First time was when he dropped the flowers off, then another time with the flowers. This afternoon when I left, he was still there and I arrived a bit earlier just now, so that gave us another chance for a dialogue."

"That's not your job! Mary Margaret is supposed to be that person. I thought I was safe with you."

"Sorry, Emma," David replied. "I guess being married to her made me take over a few traits."

Emma wanted to be angry, she wanted to feel "betrayed" but she didn't. Somehow she was alright with it.

"And?"

David smiled, a genuine one full of sincerity.

"I like him," he answered, nodding his head.

It made Emma smile, too.

"Good, but we're not dating."

Emma snatched her things and closed the file. It would have to wait until tomorrow. She placed her black coffee cup in the sink and walked towards the door.

She wasn't sure of it, not in the least bit, but she thought a hushed "yet" said by David found her ears as the door closed.

As soon as Emma sensed the sunlight on her skin, she also heard the gentle sound of his voice floating through the open window.

Hearing Killian sing shouldn't be a surprise anymore and still Emma felt like she was spying on him like the first time.

It didn't take long for her secrecy to be unveiled by Killian's gaze. Unexpectedly, Killian did not end the song in an abrupt way, he just kept doing as he was before, only now with a smile on his face. A smile aimed at her. Emma stepped towards the right side of the car and sat next to him.

"Good evening, Emma," he said, the song fading away and his smile even brighter than before.

"Hey, Killian," Emma replied.

Her hand went behind her shoulder to the black strap of the seat belt and brought it in front of her. Clicking the system in place, she settled in the chair.

"So," she started again. "You and David are "mates" according to him. No wonder you knew who he was."

There was a trace of a question- or an invitation to explain- in her words and it was clear that Killian noticed it. Soon, a nervous hint appeared on his face.

 _Three, two, one…_

Killian's hand went up and temporarily disappeared in his strands of hair as he nervously scratched.

"We might've encountered each other by pure coincidence several times and found we had quite a bit in common."

"Killian, easy," Emma said.

His voice contained an unsettled edge, like he felt he needed to explain. Emma rushed to make that fade away.

"I don't mind. At all."

She shook her head to reassure him. It clearly worked because he let out a soft sigh of relief. His hand dropped from his head to the wheel and curled around it, showing that now the situation was cleared out, he was ready to leave. Killian's dark eyebrow went up to check if Emma was willing to leave too. With a smile on her lips, Emma nodded encouragingly.

"Oh, but Killian?" He turned with an inquiring look and encouraged Emma to continue. "Let's stick to the traffic code this time."

Her comment caused a wide grin on Killian's face as he drove off the station's parking lot and onto the main road

"How was work?" Killian questioned, the melody of another gorgeous song on the radio in the background.

She really needed some musical suggestions from him. Or to let him make her a playlist because Emma was stuck listening to the same songs over and over again. Though a playlist might be a bad idea. That's what couples would do.

"It was good. I mean, as good as paperwork can be, but good."

"For a police officer, you seem to do a lot of that. Don't you have to take part in nightly patrols or car chases?" he said.

Emma lightly sissed.

"In Storybrooke? Sorry to disappoint, but no. Or rarely, at most."

"Well, then I'm glad I didn't pursue my premature idea of becoming a police officer. I already despise the amount of documents that come my way."

Intrigue found Emma and she slightly moved her shoulders to get a better look at him.

"You wanted to become a police officer?"

Killian nodded to confirm the statement Emma made.

"Why didn't you?" she continued.

She saw his shoulders go up in a shrug. A streak of sadness briefly tainted his features and Emma immediately wanted to leave her seat to console him. To make the pain go away, whatever might have caused it.

"Life happened," was his short answer, stating that he wasn't ready to continue. Articulating that this was nor the time, nor the place.

Even if Killian didn't feel the need to continue on the subject, Emma still tried to comfort him by placing her left hand on his shoulder. Her fingers soon slid further to his neck and remained there for a while. No sign of discomfort or opposition was sent her way, so she just let her hand rest there.

When some time had passed along without any contact (excluding the touch of her hand and his neck), Emma decided that she had crossed enough boundaries for today and started to slowly retrieve her hand. It was it that moment that Killian tilted his head and placed it on the back of Emma's hand. His jaw, full of strength and with all its stubbles caressed her soft hand. It seemed like a clash of contraries but it felt so mundane.

A tinge of emotion lodged itself in her throat.

He found solace in her.

The gesture meant that she could possibly find solace in him.

It could not get clearer than that.

 **A/N: Yeah, still not completely happy about this but whatevs. Let me know what you think of it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: And another two months have passed. Yikes. Enjoy this very fluffy chapter. The next one will answer some (and I say some) questions you're all having. Have fun!**

"Alright, Swan," Killian said, making Emma look up with intrigue in her eyes. "I think it's about time you give me your number," he finished. The nod of his head reaffirmed his statement.

Another three days of their lunches had gone past. They never articulated what happened that day in the car. Both of them sensing the delicacy of what transpired between them and both aware of the rashness it held.

Emma creased her eyebrows in false consideration. She pursed her lips and moved them from side to side.

"Give you my number, hmmm," She lifted her hand and placed her chin on her palm as support. Her fingers lightly tapped on the apple of her cheek. "I don't know," she admitted. "Why would I do that?"

A smile creeped on her face despite her best efforts not to laugh and blow her cover. Emma tried to clear it off her face to keep up the joke. It was useless though, because Killian had picked up the insincerity from the second she started speaking. An open book. Plus, the way her lips curled briefly with mischief only affirmed his suspect.

"As much as I enjoy our lunch dates…"

Emma's eyes darted towards Killian as he pronounced the word. He just used date to describe the thing between them. The lifted eyebrow on his behalf showed that he was perfectly aware and most likely even deliberately chose it.

"... I would like to be able to just make plans over the phone instead of impatiently waiting until you show up again for half an hour. Besides, like I told you before, I'll be out of town for the next two days."

 _So, what is he saying right now?_

It must have been that the question was easily read off her expression. Maybe it was the nervous nibbling on her lip or it could've been the fastness with which she averted her eyes and focused them on the ground. It could even be her hands being rubbed together. It didn't matter because Killian clearly understood.

"I guess what I'm saying is that I like you, Emma Swan, and I'd like to have your number to be able to contact you when I miss you. Does that sound as a good enough reason for you?" Killian ended and Emma was rendered speechless. Leave it to him to do that.

"Maybe even send you partially annoying messages." Killian grinned and made Emma softly laugh. She found her voice again and started their everlasting banter contest again.

"Seeing that you'll be the one sending them, that will most definitely be the case."

In defeat, having clearly failed her original purpose of deceiving him, Emma raised her arm, held it over the table with the remnants of their lunch and opened her palm in front of Killian. He understood what she was asking and took his phone out of the front pocket of his black jeans. His face glowed with accomplishment when Emma quickly tapped her number and saved herself as Swan. Swan was more appropriate seeing that he rarely called her Emma. It was something between the two of them. Something Emma liked more than she would ever admit to a living soul.

"Now," Emma said while handing the phone back. "I have to go to work."

The usual disappointment Killian showed every time Emma uttered the phrase to indicate the end of their time together, was not there. Emma guessed that now that he had the ability to contact her anytime, he felt less unsure about her leaving and not returning anymore.

 _Damn you, Emma,_ _for ever_ _making him feel like that._

Shrugging her leather jacket on, she took the tinfoil packages their food was wrapped in and threw them in the garbage.

"Bye, Killian."

A quick smile and she was out the door. Holding the car's key, she walked towards the bug. There was a light ring, a sound that came from the door's bell. The gravel crunched under footsteps behind her. Emma turned her head, seeing Killian walk towards her and opened her mouth to ask if she forgot something, but she never had the chance to say a word because Killian crashed his lips against hers. Emma was caught by surprise and couldn't silence the moan that she made.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?" she asked, her mind still hazed by the passion of the kiss.

"You should really stop biting your lip like that," Killian remarked, pointing out the action that Emma was subconsciously doing again. His eyes had darkened. They were now the night sky, right before the stars started shining. "I suppose I wanted to give you a proper goodbye."

"It's only two days," Emma stated.

"I'm well aware."

Emma didn't say anything. The dread in Killian's voice told her not to. She knew that anything she could reply would imply the realness of this all. It wasn't easy to keep denying its existence, but Emma just didn't feel ready for it. Not yet. By answering she would pronounce those silent things.

 _It pains me to be away from you too. I'll miss you. My days without_ _lunching_ _with you will be boring._

They sure as hell weren't ready for those kinds of confessions.

So Emma nodded and reprised the way to her beloved, yellow automobile. Trying to find her voice, she softly cleared her throat, so Killian wasn't able to hear how he affected her.

"Have a nice trip," she said with a quick smile after it. Emma sat down on the worn driver's seat and ignited the engine to leave.

She was only on the road for a couple of minutes when a sound informed her that she had received a text. Emma immediately had a feeling about who the sender of the message might be. It was tempting to just grab her phone and glance over what was written on her screen, but Emma refrained herself from doing so.

She was the sheriff and had given enough anti text and drive campaigns to know the risks. Besides, seeing that she organized them, it would be extremely hypocritical of her to keep giving Cruella tickets for it when she did it herself. The text would have to wait.

By the time she arrived at the station, she had plural.

 ** _Killian: Try not to miss me too much, Swan_**

 ** _Killian: Forgot to sign my last message. If there was any confusion, it's me, dashing rapscallion_**

 ** _Killian: Or scoundrel, you can choose_**

 ** _Emma: I thought you said mildly annoying texts._**

 ** _Killian: On average, yes._**

 ** _Emma: Great_**

 ** _Killian: Don't worry about it, lass. I'll leave you be for now. You've got some sheriffing to do._**

That she did.

The normal calm Storybrooke resided in was pierced by a chain of break-ins. Granny had been the first to call, her tone full of distress. It was the first time Emma had ever heard that in the elderly lady's voice, she was usually the epitome of confidence and bravura. Ruby was gone for two weeks and Granny was alone save for a few guests. The burglars emptied the register of any money that could be found there and went as far as rummaging through all of the cupboards in search of jewels. A successful pursuit.

Emma's mind only needed the word burglary to form the connection with both incidents at Killian's shop. The case never got closed, so it could be a possibility. It would surely be handy. Secretly, the case had been nagging her more than she let on towards Killian. Someone committing a B&E should never be able to repeat it.

When she got to the scene, however, Emma realized that the crime scene didn't resemble that in the flower. Granny's didn't look like it was robbed, aside from a broken lock and messy cabinets. There was no broken glass spread on the floor. No complete and utter chaos. It was the classic "look for what you can find and leave as fast as possible." It only confirmed Emma's hunch. 'Black and Bloom' was intentionally damaged, the person or people doing it not caring about the time it took, but only making sure they did a thorough job.

Being the great sheriff that she is (not to brag), it only took Emma a couple of hours to solve the case. In their hurriedness, the thieves had forgotten a pocketknife that had fallen on the ground. Clearly in order to have it returned when it got lost, a last name was engraved in the red plastic: **_Chapman._** So Emma was planning to do exactly that. Return the knife and bring in its owner for a nice night in custody.

Out of the three Chapmans in town, two of them were an elderly couple who only ventured out of their house on Sunday to go to church. The third possibility was a more likely one: Rosa and Philip's grandnephew Jacob. Emma knew him as a rebellious kid who was known to pull pranks and test the limits of Emma's compassion. He recently turned 18 and left the care of his grand uncle and aunt. After Jacob's mother died 10 years ago, they vouched to take care of him. Their relationship had been strenuous, the two pensioners not being able to control the cranky teenager.

Life hadn't been easy on him and it pained Emma to see him do this bad. It was a case that hit close to home.

Jacob had instantly confessed, stating that he was the only one planning and committing the crimes. He was just feeling bored and wanted something to do. It surprised Emma how fast it all went. He didn't try to blame anyone else, he didn't try to lie his way out of it. He just admitted.

When she saw Jacob's brown eyes, she recognized a look of forlornness. A boy, only eighteen and already so lost. He had given up. Emma had sat down, not wanting to hear any of the reasons he was giving and started talking. She dropped the sheriff roll and tried to act as a confidant, someone he could trust. Eventually the truth came up. Jacob stole the money because he needed it. No one in town wanted to hire a kid with a history and not having a job meant no way to rent anything to sleep in. Not finding another way, he turned to criminality. Solely to survive.

When Emma phoned Granny and told her the case had been solved, the woman decided not to press charges. She knew about Jacob's situation and offered him a job. She made it clear that it wouldn't be easy work and that he would have to behave, but Jacob saw no objection to that and eagerly agreed. Jacob thanked both women so intensely that Emma felt a knot in her throat.

It was Storybrooke's magic. Somehow everything and everyone got a happy ending here.

Her shift ended at six and Emma rushed home, eager to sink into her couch, drink a beer and relax. She could use it. The second she stepped into her car, she received a text.

 ** _Killian: Alright, done with the sheriffing. How was your day?_**

Emma sighed. She wasn't feeling up for this. Not now, not here. Her index locked her phone again and tossed it in the car seat next to her. The pad of her fingers touched right in front of her face and not long after they did, she rubbed her hands over her face.

 _It's time to go home._

 ** _Emma: It was fine, I guess._**

Emma typed out her message, her body planted on her comfy couch. Exhaustion drained her body and she was ready to close her eyes and simply nap. Her hand reached for a small, grey pillow lying not too far from her and pulled it closer.

 _Hold on. Last time you slept on the couch, you felt it for days. If you're that tired, you should probably go to bed._

Moaning and groaning, Emma reluctantly rose herself from the couch, being forced to listen to her own mind's logic. She walked the long (not that long) path towards her bedroom and dropped herself on the bed as soon as she could. The instant she closed her eyes, her pants vibrated. Well, obviously not her pants, but the phone in her pocket.

 ** _Killian: You guess? That betrays whether it was actually fine or not._**

Her eyes stared at the message for a while, not knowing if she should answer. If she replied, what would she put in the text? Was she even ready to discuss this?

In the middle of her internal monolog, the three bubbles started moving right before another message popped up.

 ** _Killian: Emma, are you alright? You seem vexed._**

Roaming over the keyboard, her fingers hesitantly started typing.

 ** _Emma: Some things happened today and they made me think about the past._**

It was vague enough to keep the conversation light and casual. It was specific enough, however to reassure Killian that she was indeed okay to some extent.

Suddenly the device in her hand started buzzing intensely, showing Killian's name in big letter. He was calling her. After taking a calming breath to settle her nerves, she accepted the call.

"Hello?" she said.

"Good evening, Swan," his beautiful timbre replied.

"So you've decided not to exclusively annoy me by texting me, but also by calling me." She tried to make herself sound as cheery as possible while she gently teased him.

"Alas, I have. I suppose you are stuck with me, Swan."

Emma didn't answer and a silence fell between them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he simply asked.

Emma shifted beneath the sheets of her bed, looking for a better position. The way he said it was so transparent, void of any pressure or underlying intentions. He left it completely up to her. Something, she had discovered in their time together, was so quintessentially him.

"I had to bring someone in custody today," Emma began. "He was this … kid. I can't describe him in another way. I mean, he's eighteen but he's still a kid. He robbed Granny's because he needed money for shelter and no one would hire a deadbeat off the street. And he…" A sigh escaped from Emma's lips. "All I could think about was me at that age, doing the same exact thing. Living off small crime, from day to day, not knowing if I was going to be able to eat or sleep that day. Too stubborn to ask for help. He's all alone, save some distant relatives, and he just doesn't belong."

Emma took a deep, shuddering breath while wiping away the recently fallen tears, staining the blue pillow case. Killian patiently waited on her. He seemingly didn't want to jump to conclusions before hearing every word she had to say and Emma appreciated that.

"It was just so troublesome to see his disbelief in the world. It showed how much it had failed him. But I understood what he was feeling, because I too had been confronted with the unfairness of it all. I wanted to tell him that things would turn out alright after a while, that I couldn't know how long it would take, but they would get better. Still, he wouldn't believe me. I know I wouldn't," Emma admitted. "He was ready to give up but then Granny offered him a new chance and the gratefulness in his eyes was overwhelming. Though he was so happy, I could only feel sad. I started imagining what my life would have been if I had that opportunity. I have a great life now, don't get me wrong, but there's always that "what if." What if someone had deemed me worthy enough." Her last sentence resembled more to a whisper than anything else.

"I can't change what happened in the past, can't prevent the terrible things you went through from happening, for that it's sadly too late. However, I can tell you, Emma, that you are worthy of any and every piece of happiness that comes your way. You clearly fought fiercely for your life now and I can only admire that. The world is a terrible place, but then there are people like you who make it better. You made his life better. You're an inspiration, Swan."

"Thanks, Killian," Emma said, the gloomy feeling still lingering somewhere within her. Killian spoke again.

"Besides, what if you hadn't become the sheriff and Dave had been my nightly savior? He's a nice chap and a handsome fellow and all that, but I do prefer to kiss you. Not to mention the probability of Mary Margaret skinning me alive."

The corners of Emma's mouth instinctively turned upwards as she softly giggled. He was an absolute idiot. An idiot who made stupid jokes to make her laugh.

"Did that work?" Killian asked.

Even though Emma was unable to see him, she could hear that he was smiling, too

 _This man is an actual gem._

"Yes," she replied, "Job accomplished."

She felt a flutter in her belly, something that made her insides turn all warm and gooey, while listening to the sound of Killian's laugh filling the extremely long distance between them. If someone would ask her to describe it, she could only come up with the word happiness.

"What are you doing in Portland, again?"

"Like I told you, there is a florist convention here. There are speakers coming to talk about things such as resembling flower species, the best fertilizers to use, etcetera."

"Oh, that is so not attractive," Emma commented.

Killian chuckled as a reply.

"I didn't know I had to be. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Swan."

"It's alright. I'll make up something else. I'll pretend that you're…" She took a pause to come up with story. "You are away on a secret mission to fulfill your duties as a spy. Yes, that's it. 007. Jones, Killian Jones. Perfect." Emma smiled. "You've got the accent for it."

"Do I now?" Killian said, stretching his vowels until they became one languid sound emphasizing said accent. "Tell me, love. How many dreams have you had where I save you with dashing rescue?"

"Well, there was that one last night where you and I had that crazy make out session afterwards. I must admit that it felt very realistic when I woke up." Emma added a sensuous sigh to complete the act.

She was hoping it would affect him in some kind, possibly puncturing a small hole through Killian's usual behavior; the one full of confidence and flirtation. So, when it became clear she succeeded and that her advances were even more powerful than she thought, Emma physically felt her pride grown.

Killian stammered, his mind not being able to form a coherent word. Emma was fascinated by him. Somehow he simultaneously was a man with a boasting (and sometimes too large) self-confidence, who was almost selling himself, and a man who was shy and blushed while receiving compliments and being on the receiving end of innuendo. Plus, the shift between the two happened in the span of seconds, like a switch being flipped to turn on the light. To be quite honest, Emma didn't know which one she preferred.

"I was joking, Killian. The only one who saves me is me," she finally said to put him out of his misery.

Killian cleared his throat. "Aye, I reckoned."

The tiredness Emma felt before had dissolved during the call with Killian. She had regained her energy. Lifting her legs, she got out of bed to get something to eat. The loud growls coming from the deep craters in Emma's stomach told her so.

"Swan, what is that sound?"

Very loud growls indeed her stomach was making. Accelerating her pace, Emma navigated towards the kitchen. The faster she reached the food, the faster the embarrassing sounds could stop.

"That could've been my stomach, but it also could've been something else," was her response.

"Bloody hell, lass. Have you even eaten since you left the shop?" he inquired, lacing his question with worry.

"I'm eating right now." Emma clutched her phone between her ear and shoulder to open the fridge and grab the leftover Chinese food. While using her hip to close the refrigerator's door again and pressing start on her microwave, Emma listened to Killian asking another question.

"And what does your meal consist of?"

There it was. She was in on a lecture about living in a healthy way and eating food that was good for her and not clogging her arteries. She had heard it all from Mary Margaret. Several times.

"Noodles and spring rolls with a side of shrimp crackers?" Emma expressed it like a question but in reality, she was quite sure of what food it was, seeing that she was currently chewing on it in her mouth.

"Alright, that settles it. On Sunday, when I return, you're coming to my house and I'm going to cook for you."

"A date?" Emma momentarily quit nibbling on the crackers, waiting on an answer she already knew.

"Yes, a date, Emma. It's about time. Will you go out with me?"

There was nothing Emma could think of to say no. She didn't even want to say no. Killian had showed again and again and again that he was worth taking a risk for. Letting her set the pace, not pushing but letting her pull, listening when she needed him to. At this point, the only problem Emma had was that it was so difficult to believe he was real. Talk about progress.

"If you were here, I would kiss you," she replied.

"So, I take it that's a yes…" Killian cautiously said.

"It is."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: it's crazy how fast another month has passed, but it was quite a good month seeing that I finally graduated secondary school! That also means that I have 3 months of vacation to write, so hopefully the next chapter is here soon.**

 _Casual or chic?_

Her hands threw the closet doors open with hurriedness. Emma rummaged through the hangers, inspecting every garment for a second and always finding a reason not to wear it. On to the next one as she slid it aside.

 _Pants or dress?_

The folded clothes that were lying above the rack got partially unfolded as Emma examined them. She really didn't have enough elegant clothing, almost always opting for comfort instead of frills. But honestly, what could she need them for? Her dating life was non-existent. There was no need to dress up or have the grade of her beauty be above average. Suddenly, Emma was reminded of something. The dress she wore to Elliot's baptism was soft and feminine but still Emma. It would be perfect.

 _Hair up or hair down?_

Emma spent nearly ten minutes just staring at her face in the mirror and after those she had not become any wiser. What would Killian prefer? Emma with loose locks or Emma with a ponytail? She tried both options, binding her strands together and releasing them again. An exasperated sigh came out of Emma.

 _Oh wow, Emma. You are a disaster. Chill._

All of her worries were for nothing. It was Killian. He only wanted to cook for her and have a good time while having dinner. It was basically what they had been doing for some time. He simply branded it as a date. That didn't make anything different. This stress was changing her, turning her into something or someone she wasn't. She should be herself. Getting jitters with Killian and the thing between them was okay, but she had to be true to herself.

So dress it was, hair loose, her black shoes with heel on her feet. Emma looked nice, but she looked like Emma as well.

Her phone lying on her bed transmitted a sound and caused Emma to smile. Three guesses who the text was from.

 ** _Killian: Nearly there, Swan. Are you decent?_**

Emma touched different spots on the keyboard to form an answer. She then pressed the send button and locked her phone. She was still needing a purse because sadly the dress wasn't one of those with pockets. The invention of the century, if it depended on Emma.

 ** _Emma: I am dressed and ready to go, yes_**

Ting. Killian had responded already.

 ** _Killian: How ever disappointing._**

 ** _Killian: I would not mind to encounter you in a less clothed version_**

Emma rolled her eyes as a reply to his text. He lived off of innuendos. If you could even call it that. This was pretty straightforward.

 ** _Emma: Not doubting that but my clothes are staying on tonight, buddy_**

Her eyes were fixated on the screen, waiting for an answer but instead of the little bell her phone usually made, three knocks sounded. Emma moved, purse in hand and went to open. The swinging door revealed a smiling Killian, dressed in a light blue shirt with a darker blue blazer over it. His eyes slightly widened while seeing her and his smile grew.

"I don't mind that, Swan, seeing that you look absolutely stunning," he said, reacting to her last sent text.

Emma felt the blood rush to her cheeks and spread to every other part in her body. It always felt so strange to receive a compliment. Nearly always would she would shrug it off, looking for a reason why it could not be true, searching for any sign of a lie. The reflex turned on again but Killian's expression was so empty of any evidence of untruthfulness. It just helped Emma's face to redden even more.

"You also look amazing."

It was true. The blue of his outfit made his eyes look brighter than ever before. It was a bit overwhelming, looking at them. Not just their shine but the way he looked at her. Amazement. Emma once saw a documentary that followed people who never in their life had seen the sea. The crew took them on a trip to finally witness the vast water. The gaze with which those people looked at it, is how Killian looked at her.

 _Fuck._

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

Emma lightly bobbed her head and grabbed Killian's outstretched hand. She closed her apartment's door after her and followed him to his brown car.

"Right, before I forget it." His hand lifted the plastic cover off of the trunk while his other kept the connection with Emma. A small flower appeared from under it. Killian turned her hand, opened the palm and placed it in it. Softly, her fingers curled around the petals.

"It's not a date without flowers," Killian said.

"You're a florist." Emma's brow rose. "It's not like that was difficult."

Killian shrugged, an amused smile coloring his expression. He came closer to her and Emma eyed him, trying to figure out what he was going for. Before Emma could register what happened, he had pressed a kiss on her cheek and had walked to the driver's side.

"Oh, Swan."

They had filled the long drive with some light conversation about Killian's convention and Emma's activities in his absence and when those dwindled down, Emma had turned on the radio. Killian had given Emma a "I know exactly what you're doing, lass" look but had still sung along with the songs he knew. Emma must admit that when 'Roxanne' by 'The Police' came on, it became difficult to keep her own lips shut. When she started singing, Killian glanced sideways and smiled. Once the unfamiliarity of singing in an environment that was not her shower and singing in front of a living being, simmered away, Emma had the best time. They tackled legends like Beyoncé and Red Hot Chili Peppers. And when Taylor Swift started playing, Killian sang like he meant it. Before Emma knew it, they arrived at Killian's. The date hadn't even officially started and it was already incredible.

The greenhouse was lit up, yellow flickers meandering mildly with the wind. It was quite breathtaking, like a beacon in the midst of the darkness. Killian came up to her side, a nervous smile on his lips.

"You like it, Swan?"

Tearing her stare away, Emma looked at him.

"This is unbelievable," she replied.

She had to renounce any shaking of her head in disbelief. They walked inside and a table was standing in the center. Emma had been here before, so she knew he brought it here especially for her and their date. There was so much thought and effort put in this that Emma felt like she should say something about it and she did.

"Killian, this is too much." She motioned to the scene in front of her. "You went through too much trouble for just a date."

Emma might have said "just a date", but it meant more to her. By downplaying the effect it had on her, she was protecting herself. Shielding her heart from possible heartbreak. Maybe it was just a date to Killian and she was getting her hopes up. But the little voice in the back of her mind kept repeating that he did all of this for her.

"A date with you is worth all of the so called trouble, Emma," Killian said and he was clearly serious. "Now." He lifted one of the chairs and gestured towards it. "If you would like to sit down, I'll get us some drinks."

Emma complied and used her hands to smooth her dress while sitting down. Killian disappeared and Emma let her eyes drift over the room. Observing the flowers, she tried to identify them. There were lilies. When she was here before, she mainly worked on those. Roses, because who can't recognize a rose, sunflowers, orchids.

"Testing your flower knowledge, Swan?" Killian asked, causing Emma to turn her head.

He was carrying a bottle of wine and Emma smiled at him.

"I am. It certainly has improved. What kind of flowers are those?"

She pointed her finger at a type with multiple flowers on one stem. Killian trailed the flowers she was meaning and answered.

"Those are gladioli." Killian couldn't help himself and told Emma even more about them. "The name comes from the Latin word for sword because they're all on one branch."

"You are a good teacher."

Emma took a sip of the red wine.

"Why did you become a florist?"

Ever since Killian told her that he once wanted to work for the police, Emma had been wondering why he chose flowers instead. The two had very little in common.

"When I was younger, we used to live next to a floristry. It was run by an elderly lady, Mrs. Talbot." A sad expression flashed over his face and Emma reached over to grab his hand. "My mother died when I was six and it didn't take long for my father to avert to drinking and gambling and simply not taking care of us. Mrs. Talbot did. She let us help in the shop and learned us how to grow flowers and when my father completely vanished, she tended to us. Until she died as well. I suppose I wanted to keep up her legacy and honor her by following in her footsteps." His shoulders rose in a shrug.

"I'm sorry," Emma said, caressing his hand and sending him a look of empathy.

Killian had a very difficult life, there were enough indications for Emma to conclude that. Things he said and how he comported himself. It made Emma's heartache, sensing what pain he had gone through.

"It's all right. That was a long time ago. And you, Swan? What made you pursue a career as sheriff?"

"I'm afraid it's not a happy story, either."

She still told it, starting from Neal going all the way until she arrived in Storybrooke and met the Charmings. That was how she called David & Mary Margaret. It was impossible not to like them and they welcomed her into their family and house. Killian listened and laughed with the story Emma told about that one time when she caught her roommates in quite the compromising position. Emma moved out the next month.

It had been ages since she told anyone about Neal and what he did to her and Emma certainly wasn't planning on already telling Killian tonight, but he was so open with her, talking about his family and problems that Emma saw no other way but to retaliate.

They conversed for ages, the only interruption was when Killian went to get their food. Like he promised Emma, he had cooked and it was delicious. Emma had to repress her moans. With Killian at the table, a man fluent in innuendos and master in dirty looks, moaning was a bad idea. They discussed music and their favorite books and movies.

"Swan, DC has better narratives, the films are far darker and contain story."

"No, no. Marvel takes the upper hand. They are consistent and the action scenes are incredible and they manage to weave stories and spread them over different movies. Plus, have you seen Chris Evans?"

Emma wanted some fresh air and suggested a short walk outside, Killian eagerly agreed. They circled the greenhouse once, then twice and when they had finished the third tour, Emma went and laid herself down in the grass. Killian lifted his eyebrow in a question.

"I want to look at the stars."

Emma was fully aware of the clouds blocking any stars that could be visible, but she didn't mind. It wasn't the prime reason. Killian was a bit slower to catch on.

"Swan, there's nothing to see, the stars are obstructed," he replied.

"I know, Killian. Just lie down and don't miss this opportunity to make out with me."

The understanding appeared on his face. His eyes dilated and his mouth fell open. It made Emma laugh. Baffled Killian was back. He obeyed and sprawled his body next to hers. Scooting closer, Emma placed her lips on his. Finally. She had been aching to kiss him since he came to pick her up. Killian gladly reciprocated.

Did they look like teenagers? Yes. Did Emma mind? No.

They kissed until their breaths became shorter and the need for air grew. They broke apart and Emma placed her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were still closed to keep the magic. Light strokes on her arm were made by Killian's hand. The silence surrounded them only occasionally being broken by their in-and exhales.

"What time is it?" Emma asked.

It was definitely late, of that she was sure. Her eyelids were getting heavy, Killian proving to be a very comfortable pillow.

"I have no idea. Do you have to work tomorrow?"

Emma softly moved her head against Killian.

"I do, but I have the late shift, so I only need to start at six."

Killian tightened his arms around her and brushed his mouth against her crane.

"Good."

* * *

 _Emma, wake up. You're sleeping in grass._

Opening her eyes, Emma took a deep breath. She had fallen asleep and the even breathing of Killian told her that he was too. She stretched her neck and gently shook Killian awake. The cold air was hitting her skin, leaving a trace of goosebumps where it went.

"Killian, wake up," her whispering voice said.

"Hmm, I should drive you home."

Driving home right now, in the dark of the night for over 40 minutes, the exhaustion chasing them. It didn't seem like the best option. Her sheriff senses were taking over. They shouldn't do that. It did mean she would spend the night at his place after the first date, but nothing was going to happen, Emma assured herself.

"I don't think that's a smart idea. We are both incredibly tired. I don't mind staying here."

Killian didn't answer, making Emma think that he slumbered again. Shifting, Emma was planning on catching his attention again, but he spoke before it was needed.

"All right."

The phrase lacked the enthusiasm Emma was expecting from Killian, nor did it have the tinge of insinuation and eyebrow waggling Emma foresaw. It sounded empty and hesitant and even a bit averse. Emma tilted her body upwards, waited for him to stand up too and went to grab her purse. She illuminated her phone and it confirmed her intuition. It was nearly 1.30 am. Nervously shifting from one foot to the other, Killian stood at the greenhouse door awaiting her. As soon as she reached him, he started the walk towards the house. The darkness slowed Emma down, not being accustomed to the trail they were following. Killian, on the contrary, marched away, nearly leaving Emma behind.

What caused his sudden change of mood with him?

By the time she caught up, Killian had already brightened all of the lights. Emma set foot inside, her gaze curious and wondering about the insides of the house. She didn't know what she was expecting of it, but it decidedly wasn't this. The house lacked personality which was strange for someone like Killian. The flower shop was filled with his own touches, images of who he was, but this was empty. Walls colored with a generic pigment of brown, bare of pictures or ornaments. Emma couldn't help but compare the house with her own apartment. The small flat was loaded with pictures and trinkets she picked up at the flea market. Just yesterday Granny gifted her an old camera and now it had a place on one of her cabinets.

Killian ran upstairs and stopped at the first room on the right.

"You can sleep in here," he said, motioning inside. "I have some clothes you can wear to sleep."

Emma took a look inside and immediately noticed the difference with the rest of the house. The walls were colored red, the bed was made out of dark, nearly black wood. Matching bedside tables stood next to it. The room was furnished to be one coherent whole.

"Killian, this is clearly the master," Emma said, not wanting to kick Killian out of his own room.

"It's fine, go ahead."

"No, Killian." The persistence in her voice was not to be doubted. "I'll sleep in the spare room. Where is it?"

Killian's eyes were directed at the floor as he sighed. The faint sigh surely wasn't meant to be heard by Emma, but she did and it confused her even more. He showed her the room and said he would bring her the clothes. When he did, he simply accompanied it with a here you go and closed the door behind her. Emma undressed herself, unzipping her dress and replacing it by the T-shirt and sweatpants Killian handed her. For a moment, she fiddled with her hands, unsure of her next step. Should she go to him and wait for him to talk to her? What if he didn't want to talk? What if she was just imagining it? Grunting, she let herself fall in the bed.

The unsettling feeling sank to her stomach and Emma kept on turning in the bed. Deep down she knew she wasn't catching sleep anytime soon if she didn't go and search Killian. So, she got up, her nude feet on the wooden planks and stepped to the adjacent room. It wasn't a surprise when it seemed to be empty. Emma descended the stairs and found Killian sitting on the sofa, a bottle of unopened rum in front of him. He was just staring at it, making no movement to open it or to remove it. It just stood there.

"You don't live here, do you?" Emma asked, the question more rhetoric than requiring an answer.

"It is my house," Killian responded.

He didn't look away from the bottle, didn't look at Emma as she seated herself on the other end of the couch.

"But it's not your home."

Emma's job consisted of picking up these kind of things. It was clear that no one had set foot in the guest room for a while, it was dusty. Not haunted house dusty but dusty in the sense that the coat of dirt lied there waiting to be cleaned. Because that was the only life the house saw.

"It once was," he admitted.

"Milah?"

That earned Emma the acknowledgement of his eyes. She had noted the tattoo before, it would be hard not to as it took up a large part of his underarm, but it never seemed like the right time to ask about it. A tattoo always had meaning and even if hers was more for artistic reasons, it still was significant.

Killian nodded his head weakly, lacking the emotional strength he needed. But somehow he found it as he began to speak.

"We were going to get married and this was our house," he explained, "And then Milah died. I don't stay here. I live in the apartment above the floristry. It's too difficult for me to be here. Yet, I can't get rid of it."

It explained a lot. It transformed all of Emma's question marks into dots. When the vandalism happened, he was always quickly, on the premises before anyone else. If he slept here, it would take him at least half an hour by car, breaking every speeding limit. Killian was there when they happened. Just a pair of stairs away. He unquestionably knew more. But it wasn't the time and she promised him to let it go.

Instead, she crossed the distance between them, encircled Killian's middle with her arms and laid her head against his shoulder. She couldn't think of words to comfort him, the things she thought of insufficient to soothe such grief. Keeping the quiet was the best way to go.

After a brief silence, Emma still decided to break it. A question was racing through her mind.

"Killian, I need to ask you something."

His expression gave her permission and Emma went ahead.

"Why did you ask me here?" she questioned, releasing him. "If there's so many bad memories."

Killian turned to her, the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. It reassured Emma and eased her nerves about the answer.

"For the first time in a while, I felt like they didn't need to be here. The bad memories," he specified. "Like I could forget them, even if it was only for an instant. I was right."

The smile gradually grew and Emma went to link their hands.

"Come to bed," Emma spoke.

"I can't sleep in-"

Killian couldn't finish his sentence or didn't need to. Emma already knew how it was going to end. He couldn't sleep in his room because it was their room. The only one who was already finished. The one where he had shared Milah's love and where Milah had shared his.

"I know, that's why you can sleep in my bed."

Emma lightly nudged him to stand up, to finally go to bed and sleep. Killian copied Emma standing up.

"Why, Swan. First you take your clothes off, then you even invite a man into your bed. How scandalous."

It lightened the mood, made the both of them laugh. Emma was finally greeted with her Killian again. The man she knew. With whom she would gladly share a bed to ease his pain.

"For you, I'll make an exception," she said with his face between her hands, running her thumb over the faint scar on the apple of his cheek.

They settled into bed, somewhat uncertain of how far they both could go, but eventually they found their places. Closely they lay, their heads facing each other, noses brushing, as Killian returned the favor of tracing Emma's cheek. He spoke then.

"Goodnight, Emma."

"Night, Killian."

* * *

Emma awoke in an empty bed and when she managed to get herself out of bed and went downstairs, Killian was nowhere to be found either. The wave of panic never came. At most it was a ripple, shortly disturbing a calm surface. What had transpired between them on their date was an example of how a relationship with Killian would be. It showed how considerate he was and that he could listen. They worked together, had things in common but also disagreed on certain subjects.

 _Are you saying what I think you're saying? We are doing this?_

Yes, Emma was doing it. Was going to do it. An actual relationship. A relationship with trust.

The bottle of rum was gotten rid of and replaced by a note. Emma went around the couch and picked it up.

 ** _Morning, Swan. I went to pick up some supplies for breakfast. See you soon_**

Emma momentarily didn't know what to do. It was a bit strange being alone in an unknown house. She walked towards the cupboards and went to search plates and cutlery. At least the table would be set when Killian returned. She put a glass on the right spot when the sound of the opening door reached her ear. Emma turned around and found Killian with a bag of groceries in his hand and a stunning smile on his face.

"Hi," Emma greeted him, the breath partially knocked out of her lungs by the sight before her.

"Hello, love."

The bag was placed on an empty spot of the surface.

"You didn't need to go to the store just for breakfast," Emma said, "We could've gotten something on the way."

Killian looked appalled by the example of how he would call it 'bad form'

"I wasn't going to let leave on an empty stomach, Swan," he corrected her.

"Alright, let me cook at least," Emma offered.

Killian had already prepared a delicious meal last night and woke up early to go to the store. Emma needed to something to thank him for all of his effort.

"But you're my guest," he attempted to refute.

Emma lifted her eyebrow and said his name, proving that she was set on doing this for him. He might be stubborn, but she was too.

"Alright," Killian finally conceded.

Emma wore a triumphant smile. Eventually, Killian did end up helping Emma cook, but it was no hindrance to her. They created a breakfast in a record pace, ate it in comfortable silence and washed the dishes together as well.

"Shouldn't your shop be open already?" Emma asked while clicking her seatbelt. They were driving back to Storybrooke, returning to the real world.

"Near to no one visits in the morning, so those few hours can't hurt. Would you mind, though, if we stopped by to pick up an order before I drop you off?" Killian said, his head turned backwards to drive off of the driveway.

"No, that's fine. I have plenty of time left before my shift," Emma replied.

She only needed a change of clothes and a shower, that would hardly take several hours.

They drove on the familiar gravel and Killian got out while saying he would be right back. Emma watched him unlock the front door. She opened her purse in search of her phone to keep her entertained during the wait. After a bit, she looked up. Killian hadn't returned yet and he said it would only be a moment. Emma saw no harm in going to see what was taking so long and got out of the car. When she got closer, Emma could swear she could distinguish two different voices. The door was still open, so she simply walked in.

"Killian?" Emma said.

Killian turned around and revealed a man sitting on a chair placed in the middle of the storefront. He had made himself comfortable, leaning on his cane like he owned the place. Gold. Emma felt thoroughly perplexed by his presence that she ignored Killian's pleading looks.

"Aha," the short man spoke, looking Emma up and down and taking note of how she was dressed. "So you are the one that kept our florist here busy for the day, sheriff Swan."

"What are you even doing here, Gold?" Emma inquired.

It made no sense that Storybrooke's most lousy inhabitant was here at 'Black and Bloom'. He always kept to himself, passing up on town meetings and avoiding public appearances. Why would he deliberately look up Killian? The tenseness in his shoulders already excluded the possibility of Gold coming to buy flowers.

"Emma, go back to the car. It doesn't matter," Killian tried to convince her.

Emma lowered her voice to talk to him.

"Killian, what's wrong? I'm the sheriff, if he's bothering you, I can take care of him."

"No," he said.

Killian got such a look of severity on his face that Emma became scared. For her. For him.

"Go back to the car," Killian continued, "Stay there until I come."

Gold's voice returned and intruded the conversation they were having between the two of them.

"I would listen to your boyfriend, dearie." The malice just dripped off of his words. The way he said them and to look to accompany it. Chills ran over Emma's spine. "He and I have some business to attend to and they do not include you."

Emma was used to men wanting to boss her around like they ruled the country, but she was the sheriff. Second in command of town. It didn't work on her.

"I'm not leaving until I-"

Surprisingly it wasn't Gold who she incensed with her comment, but Killian. He interrupted her sentence with such hatred that Emma physically took a step back.

"Go. In the car. Leave. Right now."

Emma huffed and returned to the car. Who was he to boss her around like that? She was heaving in the car, feeling anger towards both men inside. When Killian walked out, mere minutes after she did, he ran his hands through his hair strenuously. The muscles in his jaw bulged every time he clenched his jaw. With more fury than was needed, he stepped in the truck. He turned the key and started the engine.

"Are you even going to tell me what the fuck just happened?" Emma said when Killian didn't even respond to her presence. Her eyes shone like fire as she glared at him.

"Nothing."

"You can't tell me that was nothing."

She felt outraged. He could not blatantly ignore what just happened.

"I can and I will. Anyways it doesn't matter, Emma. Leave it be," Killian stated.

He turned the wheel forcefully, taking the curve and making Emma brace herself against the side of the car. He was driving remarkably fast considering he was in the car with the sheriff, but Killian didn't seem to care. They drove into her street and Killian braked. Emma got out, taking her purse with her and slammed the door after her, not granting Killian another glance.

How could she be so happy in one moment and in seconds could in turn into miserable?

 _Fucking bastard._

* * *

 ** _What about a review, huh? ;)_**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I know you are all waiting on some kick ass apology game as someone so beautifully put it, but it's not coming. At least not in this chapter yet. Sorry. There is first some more angst to be explored. Sorry for that too.**

She might've been furious with Killian when she left him, but now Emma only felt bad.

The way they left things prevented her from paying attention while working, secretly wishing a phone call would come in to give her some action. Anything would be better than the dark and silence Emma sat in, bestowing her thoughts to swivel and wriggle to any subject they preferred. Much to Emma's dismay that subject was near to always Killian. Sadly, the call for help never came and Emma returned home with Killian being echoed again and again in her mind.

It did not improve when she slipped under her cool bed sheets and forced her eyelids to stay shut. Her eyes kept on finding a way to defy the command and stare at nothing. She lay completely still, as if waiting for her body to suddenly decide it was time to drift off. On the inside, her thoughts did not decelerate.

Of course everything had to go wrong right after Emma decided that she was ready for the big jump. A big jump for her. It was long since she felt ready for a relationship. Since Neal, the reason why it took her over ten years to feel like it was time.

Emma loved him and Neal claimed that he loved her too. Maybe he actually did, maybe he only thought so, but he was controlling, trying to bend every possible outcome to his advantage. He was older than she was, had more experience in life and the outlaw way of being. How was a seventeen-year-old supposed to know better? Deep down, Emma knew that something was going to go wrong in the end, call it pessimism, call it a perk of her foster child past. And still, when he left her with the weight of his crime, Emma couldn't believe it. It could have been worse, she told herself. She could've been sent to a place where life was stricter than in Phoenix. She could've been pregnant or been in jail for years. It could have been worse.

Killian wasn't Neal and Emma wasn't the girl she was then.

Emma was the captain. The steer of their relationship was in her hands. If things went too fast, she could slow down. Killian wanted it like that. Understanding her, he read Emma needs and complied to her wishes.

 _You need to go._

She needed to go. Not now, in the dead of night, but she was going to. Killian would not take the first step when that was her task. The fire of the argument they had and the rage they felt was not soaring flames anymore; time had taken away its oxygen supply. It was still burning, however, like coals after a bonfire and without control, they would burn everything to the ground. They needed a bucket of water. Emma needed to make amends.

For what, she wasn't exactly sure. They left things at an impasse; both stubborn and both fuming with anger towards each other. They were both being unreasonable and far too upset over small things, their tempers fueling the heat. Talking would solve everything.

Tomorrow.

* * *

Returning to their old habit, Emma stopped at Granny's to get lunch for the both of them and drove her beloved Bug to 'Black & Bloom'.

Her attention was only partially on the road and mostly on the matter of repairing the situation.

This was a new territory to Emma. It was rare she found herself in a fight. Mary Margaret and David aren't people with whom she could fight, their personalities too kind, nor were Belle or Ruby or any of her other friends. Her last fight was with Regina right after she came to town, but that was four years ago and Regina and she had simply reached a silent understanding to forgive and forget. Very different from this.

Her car rolled on the property and Emma cut the engine. She couldn't help but to nervously exhale. A lot happened here yesterday and it was now her job to fix what happened. Her hand grabbed the fold of the bag and took it out of the car. Crunching on the small stones, her boots took her to the entrance. As always the little bell rang with her presence and Emma walked in.

The place where Gold sat yesterday was back to being to empty just like the spot behind the counter. Emma patiently waited until Killian appeared from the back room.

The door finally swung open and Killian came in through its opening. His head turned to Emma and, after taking in the person before him, Killian stood still. He wasn't expecting her, that definitely could be read off the expression he was giving her.

His surprise felt strange to Emma. It was her usual time to visit him and they had followed the same steps for so long that it had become some sort of tradition. Killian must have at least assumed she was coming. Alright, they fought but the look in those blue eyes of his didn't only have surprise but something else. Something that meant nothing good.

"Hey," Emma said, a small smile curling her lips. "I thought I might bring a peace offering." Her hand with the bag of food went up to show him what she was talking about. "It's only lunch but maybe we could talk?"

 _Say yes. Say yes._

"I'm somewhat busy at the moment."

 _Oh._

That wasn't what Emma was hoping to hear but the stiffness in his voice prevented her from insisting.

"Alright, that's fine," Emma replied, pretending she did not mind. "You want me to leave your share?"

Killian shook his head and it was again with that firmness.

"No, that won't be necessary," he said.

He did not want her here. That's what his initial look told Emma, and everything else he did or said for that matter. It was quite blatant.

Emma left. She mumbled something about having lots of work anyway and that David would eat the food. As Killian retreated to the back again, she hastily said goodbye and left. This wasn't supposed to happen. The disappointment settled into her head and heart. But it wasn't getting to her perseverance. She was not going to lose Killian, of that she was sure.

* * *

Another day, another attempt. By now she could drive the way from town to the flower shop blindfolded, Emma suspected. She had done it so many times that her muscle memory was inclined to take over. Curve to right, turn left at the lights. Take out key, open door. Walk to shop, go inside.

For the first time, that last thing was impossible to do, seeing that the door was closed. Emma frowned. The shop was always open when she came around.

There wasn't any note explaining the closure, which was curious. Surely, his customers should be informed of they couldn't purchase flowers. A hunch formed in the back of her brain and Emma walked around the house. Killian's truck stood behind the building where it always stood. He was here.

Emma went back to the glass door and placed her hands like a shield on her forehead. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to detect any movement inside. Emma peered but saw nothing. Sighing, she returned to her yellow car.

Emma stopped by the store, her supply of Pop Tarts was running low. Making her way to her favorite isle, Emma passed a rack of plants. Not fragile flowers like Killian had in his shop but simple, green, hard to kill plants. After lingering awhile, examining the assortment, she first went to get her food. When her cart was filled with all she needed and not simply the Pop Tarts, she revisited the plants. Why not?

 ** _Emma: Guess who bought a cactus for her apartment?_**

 ** _Emma: Okay, maybe that's not a real flower, but I've named him Tobias and he's really cute. Would you like to come over to check if I'm not murdering him?_**

It was pretty obvious what she attempted with the text to Killian. Lure him to her and force him to talk. Perhaps it was bad using Tobias as bait, but all is fair in times of war.

Emma waited for a response and waited for a long time because it never came. It was unlike him to take more than an hour to reply, but then again, everything the last two days was unlike him. Maybe Emma was mistaken about who he was because it unquestionably wasn't this.

It was like it all had disappeared.

Still lacking answers, Emma decided that it was enough. She wasn't stupid or blind, Killian was clearly avoiding her but Emma could not think of a reason why he would.

Chasing a man like a puppy wasn't an activity she would participate in. She was Emma freaking Swan for god's sake. The kind approach was attempted, it did not take; demanding answers one last time, it was.

* * *

Keeping the last time she came here and was greeted by a closed door in mind, Emma left for the flower shop right after breakfast. Unsurprisingly, the door moved as she pushed against it. Killian was just placing some new arrangements on the racks as she cleared her throat to get his attention, a duty the bell should have fulfilled.

She didn't beat around the bush, did not let the shock take control of his facial features, did not wait for him to send her away again.

"You're not responding to my texts, you skip lunch, I come over but the shop's closed. What's going on?" she asked demandingly.

Killian's hands left the rack as he turned to her.

"Nothing."

A shrug accompanied his statement.

She had to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. How could he keep claiming that? An indifferent nothing, over and over. The differences between him then and him now could be compared to the differences between night and day; there were a lot of them.

"Killian," Emma said, her voice stern and not open to false answers. "Something changed. Ever since Gold came by-"

A frustrated groan fell from Killian's lips right before he interrupted her.

"Swan. Seriously. Could you please stop it?"

 _No, no. Don't let him pretend you have any fault in this. You have every right to be mad._

His hand combed through his hair. He looked different too. There was no more playfulness in his eyes, the blue becoming faint without its sparks. A light trace of darkness colored the space below his eyes. The corners of his lips hung low instead of the grin he usually wore. What happened?

"This is not about Gold," he finished.

Emma stared him in the eyes, searching for his gaze every time he averted it. If he wanted to do this, he was not getting the easy way out. She raised her head and straightened her body while daring him.

"Then enlighten me as to what _this_ is."

The previously neutral expression on Emma's face contorted into a scowl as she emphasized the vague this. Killian hesitated before answering. Lifting his shoulders again, he spoke after a short silence.

"Perhaps I've just realized that I don't want a relationship."

 _Well, this is new._

"Have you?" Emma questioned.

Killian's statement conflicted with just about everything. That was why Emma asked it with an incredulous touch to her voice and a raised eyebrow. She didn't believe him. There was no response, so she continued.

"You're breaking up with me?" she asked.

"I believe we were never in a relationship."

He was telling the truth; never did they have _the_ talk but they had fun and talked about their pasts and they went on dates. They liked each other, it was kind of what a relationship consisted of. That's what Emma thought. But Killian spoke far too calm and sans emotion. He seemingly did not agree.

Emma huffed.

"Have the decency to tell me then, instead of avoiding me like a coward."

Seeping into her body, the anger found a place in her words. It did not improve when Killian's shoulders went up, yet another time.

"Could you stop fucking shrugging?!" she yelled.

Rage took control again, spiraling her emotions everywhere and making tears appear. She didn't know if they were tears of frustration or tears of distress.

 _Don't cry, Emma._

It was easier said than done. Her eyes were being overwhelmed by water and the droplets were bound to fall down. An accusing finger went up and shoved into Killian's brown shirt.

"You promised me," Emma accused him. "You said that you wouldn't be the same as him."

He wasn't supposed to be like him. He wasn't supposed to leave her.

Killian's head went from left to right in deny.

"No, I didn't."

And again, he was right. It was implied in every word he said but never did Killian actually utter the words. He showed her wordlessly with deeds.

"If you do this." Emma sniffed. "If you continue driving me away, I am not coming back."

Affirming her statement, Emma shook her head.

"See if I care, Swan."

It felt like an actual punch to the gut. His face was emotionless, his eyes empty.

"Oh wow." Emma angrily wiped away the tears that had already fallen. "You are an actual jackass, Killian Jones. I hate you in every," Emma paused. "Sense. Of the word."

Not wanting to see him anymore, Emma turned around. She needed to get out of here. Her ears picked up the sound of Killian whispering. She didn't exactly hear what he said but it sounded a lot like "I know."

In a record pace, the car was started and driven away from him.

 _He's not worth it._

She wasn't going to break down in the car, she wasn't going to break down at home. She wasn't going to break down.

Besides being hurt and crushed, there was one more problem. Emma didn't hate Killian. Far from it. She was getting to a point where love was a more suitable word. Was getting. She saw what he was trying, though. Creating a distance between them for some reason. Emma didn't want it to work, but it was too late for that. He had succeeded.

 **A/N: Alright, the next chapter is already finished but I haven't really decided yet when I'm going to post it. We'll see.**

 **Please leave a review. Do it for Tobias (whose real name is actually Max but shhh. He's the coolest cactus you'll ever meet)**


	8. Chapter 8

**It's here! The chapter of explanation and apologizing and everything in between. It's basically one big soliloquy by Killian but you all wanted answers and he's the guy who has them.**

It hurt. It hurt walking into Granny's and only ordering a grilled cheese. It hurt seeing Granny's sympathetic look and David's confused tilt of the head when she came back to the station, food in hand. It hurt having to eat alone and feel a twinge in her heart every time she saw a fucking flower. It hurt. But it was getting better.

Emma drowned herself in work, taking over cases and sending David home early to spend time with his family. He always declined and she always insisted. An hour more or less wouldn't matter; she had no one waiting on her.

She went back to life before him. Lonely, walls surrounding her heart, but frankly, he didn't give her another choice than to restack the fallen stones. She tried not to think about him, forbade herself from pronouncing his name, even mentally.

When days turned into weeks, it became easier. Easier to pretend he didn't exist. Emma hadn't seen him since. Nor had she seen anything of him. Not able to throw them away, she gifted his flowers to Mary Margaret, who would marvelously take care of them. His number, she deleted as well as all of their texts. There was no Killian Jones. Not to Emma anyway.

* * *

"Guess who I found at the harbor this afternoon? Killian Jones."

Four weeks. Emma had actually managed four weeks without hearing his name until David proclaimed it when they were about to trade places. Clearly, those four weeks weren't enough because she felt a pinch in her when she heard it. Killian Jones.

"Oh?" Emma replied, not beings able to come up with a better reply and look still focused on her desk.

"Uhuh," David answered, his hands grabbing his stuff off the desk to leave. "I gave him a lecture."

Emma brusquely turned her head. It was more than enough that David had seen him but he spoke to him? Addressed him instead of walking past him? What did David say?

"I punched him in the face, too," he continued.

Emma's eyes and mouth flew open with shock.

"David!" she yelled, her voice full of objection.

It wasn't like David to just punch someone out of the blue, especially if he was on patrol and wearing the sheriff's badge.

"I'm sorry, Emma, but I warned him. I told him before that if he hurt you, I would kill him. He has done exactly that and I couldn't really kill him, so it had to be a punch," he reasoned.

 _Of course, David gave him the Dad Speech._

"What else happened?"

"At first he became angry at me, shouting and asking what that was for. I told him what I just told you and he calmed down. Said he was sorry and I replied that I wasn't the one he should apologize to."

David lifted his jacket off the coat rack and slid it on. Emma got up as well and hugged her surrogate father.

"Thank you, David, for defending my honor."

She felt his hand touch the back of her head as he spoke.

"You are very welcome, Emma." David released her. "I hope I knocked some sense into him."

Emma smiled instead of telling David that that was the last thing she wanted. Killian needed to stay as far away from her as he could. David didn't know what happened between them, only that Killian had caused her pain. It was for the best because David would've been furious if he heard what Killian said to her. Furious wouldn't even begin to describe it, Emma thought. The fire within her had stopped raging; it was replaced by the cold of indifference. Or attempted indifference. Killian meant nothing to her.

 _And yet, he's back into your thoughts._

* * *

A knock sounded at the door. Emma, who was doing the dishes, removed the huge yellow gloves and laid them next to the sink. Her feet padded towards the door and her hands opened it. She froze at the sight of her visitor.

"Hi. May I come in?"

Emma stood there watching him, trying to figure out his intentions. Slowly, she widened the entrance, letting Killian inside her home. His gaze drifted across the room, taking everything in. He had never completely set foot in her apartment before. He ruined everything before he could. Killian's feet halted at the blue pot, a smile on his face.

"Is that Tobias?" he asked.

Shortly, Emma's head moved in a nod. Killian started speaking again.

"He looks very good."

His stalling aggravated Emma. He was obviously delaying things, attempting to regain her trust and he still hadn't given any reason for his unexpected and sudden visit. Her arms crossed in front of her chest and she straightened her back to show him she was not amused.

"What do you want, Killian?" The sternness being expressed in her voice as well.

His lips produced a silent um while his hand found his head to scratch. At least that hadn't changed.

"I saw David and um- I know apologies won't settle anything," he started. "Although I do feel like I thoroughly need to atone for what I've said and how I behaved."

 _Well, it's about time._

"I am so very sorry, Emma."

The room became still again. Killian was clearly waiting for her to respond. Probably for her to accept his apology. Possibly even kiss him and reprise what had been so forcefully broken off by him. However, Emma wasn't going to award him that. He had done too much, shattered her already exposed heart and not even one explanation as to why.

"Is that all?" she questioned, lifting an eyebrow as she did.

His hands became fists next to his body, then stretched as he opened his palms. He brought his thumb to the inside to trace the rest of his fingers. Killian was nervous.

"I- I actually came here to explain why I did what I did. In no way does it condone my actions." His hands came up to emphasize his statement. "But you need to hear the story. The entire story."

Emma should have said no, should've kicked the man that brought her so much suffering out of her apartment and should've thrown a couple of reproaches his way as he left. Yet, when she looked him in the eyes, she saw them silently asking her, promising the need for it. Ultimately, it was the disgust she saw, the absolute self-loathing that became the pivotal factor. Emma might have claimed she hated him, but Killian did.

"Alright, but this doesn't change anything."

Unfolding her arms, Emma walked towards the couch, settling herself for a more comfortable position to hear the story that most definitely would be long.

"Thank you," Killian stated while he sat down on the complete other end.

Emma couldn't help but mirror the current situation of them sitting on the couch to them doing the exact same thing at his house nearly a month ago. That night, they tore down any divides between them, or that was what Emma thought, but now they could not be further away, physically as well as emotionally.

Before telling the story Killian inhaled profoundly.

"Milah and I met eight years ago. I had just opened my shop and she was one of my first customers. She came in on a Thursday and the moment I laid eyes on her, I was mesmerized."

Killian closed his eyelids as he was telling Emma about the way she looked and who she was, clearly to capture the likeness of Milah in his memories and to give Emma an idea what she meant to him. Emma found herself listening with great attentiveness. Killian spoke of such a deep love. Never in her life had she felt something like that intense. Neal came close, but it's hard to develop such feelings while constantly being guarded and on the run. Seeing Mary Margaret and David interact with each other or hearing Killian talk, made Emma yearn for it.

"She was older than I was. I was twenty-three at the time, Milah was nearing thirty-two. I had noticed the ring on her left-hand finger the first time she came around, but I chose to ignore it, because it was me she was visiting, every Thursday for that same bouquet of daisies. Consequently, we started talking and Thursdays turned into twice a week and somehow she ended up with me, every day of the week." Killian softly shakes his head in disbelief. "I fell head over heels for her and she did for me. One day, she finally told me about her five-year-old son, that she loved with all her heart, and her husband, that meant nothing to her. Their relationship had died long before the child was born and was cold and empty."

Emma had a feeling who Milah's husband was, the cold and empty character describing the figure precisely: Gold.

"She must have told me a million times that she wanted a divorce, but he would not abide, threatening to take her son away, so she stayed but left her heart with me."

Unconsciously, Killian's hand went to rub over the spot where his own heart resided.

"Milah was working on something, cooking up a plan to get out of his tight grip. She was so secretive about it, until one day she came to me and said she transferred money to my account. I needed to buy a house with it. A big enough house for our future, for her son, outside of Storybrooke so we were outside of her husband's reach," Killian said.

Emma tilted her head while creasing her eyebrows.

"How much did she transfer?" Emma asked.

Her voice beckoned Killian's stare away from the coffee table and back to her green irises.

"Half a million dollars."

"Oh wow," blurted from Emma's mouth.

Now the big house with several rooms and garden finally made sense.

"Milah thought she had a right to the money. If a divorce would have taken place, that was what she would have gotten," Killian attempted to justify.

But 500.000 dollars was not nothing and a man like Gold would not take being fooled very lightly. Emma had seen what he did to Mo when Belle had run away. She had seen how Gold reacted to when debts were not paid. Milah embezzling that much money must have ensued a cataclysm. Killian still had a lot of the story left to tell and Emma was becoming afraid of where it would lead.

"We moved into the house and started a life together," Killian continued to speak. "It was everything I ever wanted or needed and the same was true for her. The only flaw was the absence of her son but we were searching for ways to get him to us. Milah temporarily settled for observing him while he went to play in the park."

His face showed how much Milah must have hated that.

"Everything became so mundane. I went to work, she had found a job in the town our house was in, so she kept busy as well. We finally started with making plans to turn our house into our home. It became so normal that we nearly forgot about her husband."

She could hear in his voice that telling the story was becoming difficult. The emotion was toying with his vocal chords and he kept taking longer pauses between sentences. Emma stood up and Killian looked at her worriedly. Surely, he thought she was done with him and had heard enough. Emma opened the pastel cabinet and took out two glasses. She then filled them with water and handed Killian one. The look of worry shifted to gratefulness. When she sat down again, the distance between them had lessened. Emma sipped the cold liquid, waiting for him. Both of the tall glasses were set on the table, Killian cleared his throat and spoke again.

"One day she didn't return from her trip to Storybrooke. I drove over there, checked the playground, the stores, every place she could have been, but she was nowhere to be found. The bad feeling had been haunting me ever since she didn't come home, so I went to the sheriff's station. Back then it was still sheriff Humbert."

Emma hummed in agreement. David had told her about Graham Humbert. He and Mary Margaret had a special bond but Graham suddenly died of a heart attack. It left the town heartbroken and in need of a new sheriff. David had volunteered to temporarily take over and he did a good job because he was still sheriff to this day.

"I asked him if anything had been reported. Milah Gold, he told me, had been the victim of a deadly robbing. At that time, I never even considered foul play, I was devastated. My whole world shattered into shards that cut through my soul. Milah was dead. She wasn't Milah Gold, she was my Milah," Killian emphasized. "Nevertheless, I had no right to a role in her life. According to town and the records, she was married to Gold, still lived with him, still the mother of his child. He planned the funeral, I stood yards away because I was nobody. "

He picked the glass back up to finish its content and absentmindedly traced his thumb over the condensation on the outside of the surface.

"After the funeral, I finally realized why Milah had not just bought the house herself, why she was alright with me being the sole owner. She trusted me and knew that if something were to happen to her, the house, our house would become Gold's and that was one of the worst things she could imagine," Killian revealed to Emma.

After that, his voice became softer, as if he did not want to admit his heavy drinking and his years of misery to her. Emma guessed that it was most likely because he was ashamed of himself and what he did back then.

"Eventually, the pain dwindled away. I could stand on my feet without needing rum to get me there. I permanently moved back to the flower shop and simply lived life again. Not really living, but at least trying. I think Gold never actually knew what happened with the money Milah transferred or who she left him for. Milah was a smart lass, she knew how not to leave traces." Killian smiled.

It was one accompanied with sadness, but definitely a smile.

"He had just discovered when he ransacked my shop. I think that's why it took him so long. When you came around and showed me the daisy charm you found-"

His hand went into his jeans' pocket and retrieved the white, little flower. Emma knew it was significant for him and that it wasn't property of some random customer of his. Killian continued.

"I knew that Milah's death was not an accident. The suspicion that always loitered was proven to be true with that charm."

Killian explained how it came off a bracelet he had bought Milah and told Emma how Milah wasn't the kind of person who would walk around with a lot of valuable things or large amounts of cash, but she never took off their bracelet.

"And suddenly one of its charms was on my floor?" he questioned. "The next time it happened, guess what I found amidst the broken glass." Killian didn't pause his sentence for suspense, the answer was quite clear. "Another charm. A ship this time, to represent our love for the sea."

His eyes found Emma's again.

"After our date," he carefully commenced. "When you walked in and I- Gold was demanding the 500.000 quid back, saying that I'd pay like Milah did. The look he gave you, Emma, it scared me to death. I knew what he meant with it."

Emma tried to keep a straight face but on the inside, she felt incredibly conflicted.

There was the absolute disgust towards that scumbag Gold that she was experiencing. There was Killian who had just told her how his love was murdered in cold blood and clarifying how it wrecked him. She understood what he was saying: he only meant to protect Emma, but that could not quiet the anger she still felt towards him. He hurt her, regarding the fact that it was for her own good. She kept on listening to Killian explaining while trying to cope with her emotions.

"To prevent him from witnessing the thing between us, I sent you outside. Then Gold voiced all of the things he could do if the money didn't get to him. I did not want you involved because it would give him the chance to hurt me more than he ever could by physically wounding me. Driving you away was the only way to ensure he didn't and you were safe."

"Killian, that wasn't your choice to make," Emma intervened. "I'm the sheriff. Gold can't hurt me."

"I know I was wrong," Killian admitted. "Still, I wasn't about to take that risk again."

He shook his head. Killian absolutely could not lose Emma.

 _Great, another one to add to the mess of feelings_

"What did you do?" Emma asked.

She was curious how the meeting, if you could call it that, with Gold had ended.

"He gave me six weeks to get the money. I've been searching ways to pay him. I have some savings and 'Black and Bloom' is on the profit making side. There's no way I can actually reach 500K but maybe he would agree to let me pay it in shares."

The tone of voice showed that Killian was thinking the exact same thing as Emma was: Gold did not do extensions. If he said six weeks, it was six weeks and not a day more.

Killian let out a sigh.

"My last resource is to sell the house."

"You're not going to do that," Emma answered with firmness.

Killian reacted to her statement with a confused look directed her way. He was convinced he had no other choice. Think again.

"He killed someone or paid someone to do his dirty business for him and he needs to be punished. We're going to put the bastard behind bars."

 **A/N: seeing that I gave you this chapter within five days of the last one, please don't be mad if it takes long before a new one is posted. I'm currently juggling three stories (A Bitter Sweet Memory, A Gift(Card) for Someone Special and this one) and they all need to be updated regularly (at which I suck) so...**

 **Review=heaven as always**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, again. Took a break because woohoo uni life. Completely dedicated to shady-swan-jones on Tumblr who is BP &BG biggest fan and made an amazing banner for it (be sure to check that out on my Tumblr swanandapirate) and it was also her birthday**

How do you transition from being miles apart to being around each other all of the time? And even a better question was: how do you act?

They had gone through the reversed process before; they went from talking nearly every second to complete radio silence, but it wasn't hard to figure out what she was supposed to do then. It was clear. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Killian didn't want to see her, so she didn't visit him. Killian didn't want to talk to her, so she deleted his number. Things weren't awkward because there was zero interaction between them.

Emma couldn't really do that when she promised Killian to help, when she swore Gold would end up in prison for the things he had done. When they had to cooperate to succeed.

The place they were in was uneasy, neither of them comfortable with each other. Their texts were brief and straight to the point, no winks, no jokes; only a yes or no describing any progress they might have had or hours and places where they would meet.

When they met, Emma had no idea what to say most of the time. She couldn't bring herself to have some small talk, discussing their lives. There was not a single desire in Emma to hear about how Killian kept busy in the weeks they were apart, how it seemingly was so easy to forget about her when she struggled the entire six hundred and eighty-four hours to stop thinking about the words he uttered.

The investigation was the only topic that wasn't off limits. They needed a plan, some kind of strategy to prove Gold's culpability of Milah's murder.

Using her hip and shoulder, Emma pushed against the glass door and activated the entrance bell. Killian smiled cautiously at her appearance.

"I brought some town records to go through," Emma said in lieu of a greeting. Her hands were filled with brown folders stacked on top of others. Her role as a sheriff gave her unrestricted access to any and every file kept about Storybrooke, a perk that would come in very handy for research.

Killian came near, his hands taking some of the files and alleviating the burden on Emma's arms. It was a relief, but him being so close, close enough to sense the warmth of his breath on her skin and to smell the scent she could only describe as Killian, made the instinct to shy away arise inside of Emma.

"I thought you promised you wouldn't bring me any more paperwork," Killian joked.

It didn't make Emma laugh as he maybe hoped. Only made the crease on her forehead even deeper. It was a reference to the beginning of their relationship which wasn't even a relationship according to him.

Why was this suddenly becoming so difficult for her? She'd been around him in her apartment, Emma had listened to him. Sitting on the same couch. Why was that easier than right now?

When she thought of the answer, it all sounded very logical. This was the first time she set foot in the flower shop since the incident. Or the time that Killian completely destroyed her and Emma promised that she wasn't coming back. Four weeks, that was how long she kept the vow and now she's back in the place crammed with memories.

Before, he came to her apartment, her little cocoon she called home and the place she feels most at ease. A settling environment. Emma let him in on her terms, was okay with him telling his story and only deciding after what their next step would be. There was no pressure, if she wasn't pleased with what he came to proclaim, it could be the end. Now, it could only stop with Gold locked up and would continue until he was.

 _Emma, it's time to get over it. Just do this. Put on the mask and do this._

Emma had experience with putting on a mask, covering her indifference or reluctance towards something or somebody. At first, it was challenging to mold her own face and features into a genuinely caring and concerned expression, but as time progressed, Emma kept gaining so much practice that the cover had been perfected.

Clearly, she didn't care every single time Leroy became frustrated with something and found his way to the sheriff's station to complain. The disguise simply caused Leroy to think she did. Did that define Emma as a fraud? No, only as a good sheriff. As much as there were perks, there were downsides but both were part of the job.

"Sorry." Emma set the files on the table next to those Killian had already deposited. "This is only to help you, however, so I don't think you should mind."

"I honestly don't. I can never truly express my gratitude towards you, Emma. For doing all of this." His hand motioned towards the filled table.

Emma shrugged and sat down on the white chair. Killian kept standing.

"You want some lunch?" he asked.

Emma shook her head in reply. "I already ate."

 _Smart call_

She had calculated the risk of this offer in advance, their meeting being around the time they used to eat together, and the calculation resulted in a ninety-five percent chance. Emma did not feel inclined to pick up where they left of or to give Killian the slightest bit of false hope. They were here to work and that's where it ended.

It seemed like Killian had his own version of the mask because the hint of disappointment was smoothed and the corners of his lips remained unaffected.

"Let's dive right in, then."

About half of the documents were covered by the time Emma had to leave for work. And they had found nothing. No trace of Milah, the name Gold or the pawnshop. Somehow, Gold wasn't even registered in any of the citizen censuses held in the last couple of years. It made absolutely no sense but did testify to the fact that he had something to hide, something that he didn't want to be found.

"I have to take these back because Regina would kill me if she found out I let town records scatter here," Emma said, creating another tower of paper in her arms. "But if that's alright with you, I'll return tomorrow and we can do the rest then."

"That would be perfect," he replied.

Killian carefully added another layer to the tower. Emma's body didn't react to his closeness like it did earlier; there was no need to step back, for her to get as far away as possible. It was tolerable, enough to endure for the next couple of days, which was an achievement on its own.

"Thank you again, Swan."

To help Emma, he opened the door for her and let her walk, or balance, her way back to her car.

"Don't mention it."

Killian's feet took fast paces, hurrying towards the Bug and attempting to help Emma some more by opening the trunk. Notwithstanding, he was running in the wrong direction. His features screamed disorientation as he opened the back of the car and only found the engine, instead of the place Emma could drop off the heavy load.

 _How long would it take this time?_

Not very long, because Killian rubbed right behind his ear only seconds after Emma mentally asked herself the question.

"The front," Emma helped him. "The trunk is under the hood."

"Oh." Killian switched sides and lifted the yellow hood. "Here it is," he said as if he was telling her something she didn't know already.

Emma softly sniggered as she stooped over the trunk and got rid of the files. When she straightened her back again, Killian was watching her, lips curled as well and a fascinated look in his sapphire eyes.

The realization hit Emma that this was the first time in a month she'd laughed in his presence. It may even have been the first time she laughed without any strain in the last couple of weeks. The situation felt very ironical. He was the reason she became unhappy and Killian was now the one making her laugh.

 _God, you sound so pathetic_

"Thanks," Emma spoke. She was ready to leave and delve into her work and put all of her emotions on hold for a couple of hours. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Shutting the hood, she walked past Killian and settled in her seat. He waved while Emma drove away, but Emma kept her eyes glued on her wheel.

* * *

Apparently, when you give things time, they do improve. Emma became more comfortable with talking to Killian and sitting with Killian and texting Killian, with Killian overall as the days went past. Emma hadn't forgotten that one day nor had she forgiven him but her feeling of resentment did abate.

"This guy is a ghost." Emma sighed, closing yet another folder and throwing it aside. "There should be some mention of him in here."

Killian looked up from his own document and shrugged with an empathizing smile.

"Don't wind yourself up, Swan. We'll find him," Killian attempted to hearten her.

"I hope so. We can't really do much if we don't know where to look."

It was like searching for a needle in a haystack, looking for the tiniest inconsistency in a name or date.

Emma grunted, her frustration reaching the boiling point when yet another folder was deemed useless.

"This is impossible. He was married and had a kid. There should be some record of that."

 _Wait, he had a kid. Has a kid._

Her eyes grew big and her face lit up with the anticipation of a clue. If Gold had a child, where was he?

"Killian-" Emma turned towards him. "Milah's son, what was he called?"

The black eyebrows creased, either in thought or in confusion about Emma's reasons to be interested.

"Baelfire, that was his name."

 _And here you were thinking Killian was an eccentric name._

"Is he still in town?" Emma asked. "Because I have never seen Gold with a child. Mary Margaret works at the school and she has never mentioned him either."

"I have no idea. The last time I saw the lad was at Milah's funeral which was nearly six years ago." Killian used his fingers to count. "He should be thirteen right now," he told Emma, his hand still forming a three.

Emma suddenly stood up, determined to exploit this possible lead until there was no doubt left. She took her phone and dialed David's number. Her feet paced through the room with the dial tone in the background.

"Emma?" he responded.

"David," she said hurriedly. "Are you at the station?"

"I am. Is everything alright?"

It was incredible how well he knew her. Emma always joked about how he was her surrogate father and while the four-year age difference didn't really allow that, David did play the role perfectly. He was her big brother, he looked out for her and together with Mary Margaret and Elliot, he formed her family.

"I'm fine. Would you do me a favor and look up the name Baelfire? It's spelled B-A-E-L and then fire."

Emma could hear David typing on the ancient keyboard, every letter a thud in her ear.

"There was a Baelfire here but he moved and is now registered at White Fairy's Boarding School in London, Ohio."

"What's his last name?"

"St- Stiltskin?" David answered unsurely. "Yeah, that's it. Stiltskin."

"Are there any other Stiltskin's?" Emma inquired, hoping that this would be the connection they needed.

David hummed over the line as he tapped in some more things.

"Only one, an R. Stiltskin, but there are no details on him."

"Okay, thank you so much, David. I'll see you tonight."

Emma hung up the phone and let out a giant breath of relief. She smiled at Killian, who was staring at her expectantly and unknowingly. They had a major breakthrough in the case and Killian didn't know yet. Time to change that.

"Baelfire is somewhere in Ohio attending boarding school, so he's safe from his father," she first reassured him. The kid was still a part Milah's and Killian loved her dearly. To hear that her only child was suffering probably wouldn't do him any good. "He now goes by Stiltskin instead of Gold. David was able to find one other person by that name, R. Stiltskin."

"Gold's first name is Richard," Killian added with a nod. "Milah told me that."

R. Stiltskin. Rumplestiltskin. As a cover, that was about the most genius thing Emma had ever heard. No one knew that his name, even if it was only in records, was Rumplestiltskin.

"I understand why he chose Stiltskin. The fucker has a sense of humor."

"But he wasn't good enough to outsmart Emma Swan," Killian said proudly.

 _Few are_

Emma smiles. Finally some good news, something they could continue with. They were a little step closer to having the criminal pay for his crimes.

"Now we know what to look for. I'm so happy right now."

All of the pent up frustration from before transformed into happiness and into laughter. It was stupid to be so incredibly overjoyed by such a small thing but it was a great start. If someone had been hitting a brick wall with a hammer for days without any result and suddenly a part chips off of one of the stones, they obviously would be happy too.

Killian joined Emma in her laughing spree, and how it felt good. Right up until his hands were on her cheeks and his body came closer. It felt great even. Before he wanted to kiss her.

Emma leaned away, avoiding his lips. She pushed Killian away and took three steps back, only stopping when she hit the table. Her heart was beating fervently in her chest but Emma could not pinpoint the exact reason why. Or she didn't want to.

Killian's eyes widened with the consciousness of what he just did. His memory reminding him that they weren't together and that he had shattered her heart.

"I-I'm so sorry, Emma." he stammered.

Eyes closed, Emma took a deep breath.

"It's alright," her voice was shaking. "Just don't do it again."

"I won't. I got carried away by the moment and bloody hell. I'm sorry, Emma." Killian rubbed his hands over his face.

 _Get out of here_

"I get it. I think it's best for me to go home right now." She casted a glance at the table, at the files spread across it. "I'll come back for them tomorrow."

Emma needed to escape, so she practically raced towards the door and over the gravel to the finish line, which was her car. Once inside, she only had to ignite the engine and press down on the gas pedal. That would help to enlarge the distance between her and this place.

On a corner of her bed, surrounded by pillows and a large blanket, Emma sat, eyes empty and staring at the wall. She wasn't doing anything but she couldn't tear her gaze off that green wall. Shivers ran along her body. They had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with how she was feeling. Slowly her eyes became glassy, a small line of water forming at the bottom. After some time, the tears turned her vision hazy.

 _Stop crying_

She shouldn't have gone, she should never have agreed to help him. Why did she ever think it was a good idea? The feelings were back now; back to fight each other in a corner of Emma's heart. It took every ounce of strength she had to not let Killian kiss her. But she had turned away and felt her heart constrict as she did.

 ** _Killian: I should never have done that. Please forgive me._**

How Emma wished she hadn't shown up.


	10. Chapter 10

**It feels like every time I blink, three months (or four) pass. I've been so focused on school and my exams that I couldn't write at all. Like, I had no time and during the rare moments that I did, there was no inspiration. Now that that stress is out of the way and my results were pretty decent, I hope I'll be able to update more. Thank you so much for sticking around regardless of my sporadic updates ❤**

The short sound of a new message reached Emma. It had to be the seventh time in two days that her phone had made that exact noise and she instantly knew who had sent it. Killian apparently did not understand Emma simply needed some time. He certainly wasn't helping his case. The content of the incessant texts was always a variation of "I apologize, please come back."

 _It sucks not getting an answer to your messages, doesn't it?_

It did make her feel in charge; having Killian begging on his knees for her. A proper revenge for all of those texts she sent which disappeared into the great void, unanswered. It may seem petty and slightly bitter, but she was glad with anything that made her feel alright, that took her thoughts away from that gloomy place filled with questions of love and hate.

Emma tried to make sense of it all, tried to categorize what exactly she felt for him, but it was as if her heart was one labyrinthine mess, a jumble of all the things Killian had said and done and every emotion corresponding to his words and actions. Wariness, lust, nervousness, anger, frustration, gratitude, confusion,... The list went on. Ceaseless.

Of course she couldn't stay holed up in her apartment forever; there was work to be done and her promise towards Killian withstood, regardless of how much he shook everything around with his attempt to kiss her. Emma's task was now to hide its effect as masterfully as she could. That was a worry for later, however. There still remained a nine-hour shift between the early morning and the moment she had to go and face Killian again.

Drizzle fell out of the gray sky, lightly and slowly covering the streets. Protecting her head with her raincoat, Emma walked towards her car, her steps a bit faster than usual. She started the engine, turned the windshield wipers on and was on her way. There was something extremely peaceful about an early, rainy morning, something that seemed to calm her, to take away any pressing thoughts and replace them with white noise. It was perfect.

Once she arrived at the station, she brewed a pot of coffee, its aroma spreading through the room like a very present perfume, and started working. It was boring paperwork but the resentment of the task had somehow vanished. It kept her busy and that was all that mattered at that time.

There were footsteps when the clock announced noon and Emma's gaze abandoned the paper, turning her spinning chair. David smiled, one of his characteristic charming smiles and she felt her lips twitch in return.

He rolled his chair towards her desk and set a bag on it. In slight surprise, Emma's brow furrowed; she opened the brown bag. Instantly, the smell of food found its way to her nostrils, conveying yet another smile on her face.

"Mary Margaret?" Emma already knew that only she would think of handing David an extra portion of food before heading for the station.

"You know it is." David shrugged, a trace of pride in the movement.

That was love, true love.

"I'm going to send her a text to thank her." Emma narrowed her eyes, scanning her desk for her phone and eventually retrieving it from under a sheet of paper.

"Maybe you can stop by the loft tonight," he carefully suggested, "Mary Margaret misses you and I'm sure your godchild does too."

The conflict rose inside of Emma. Of course she wanted to see her best friend and godchild, but she also had a standing promise to Killian. And if she didn't go, he'd get worried and send her even more text messages she would then ignore. It felt bad choosing Killian over her family, the only one she ever had, but she had made this commitment herself.

"I'd love to, but I have somewhere to be tonight." She sighed while reluctantly replying and confirming that she resented making that choice.

David slightly tilted his head and looked at her with scrutinizing eyes in search of something on her face. It felt as if she was supplying him too much information, so she averted her gaze and stared at her desk.

"Could this have anything to do with that very short and effective conversation I had with Killian some time ago?"

"It could. Possibly," she added, probably confirming David's hunch instead of maintaining a feigned casual and uninvested attitude about the whole ordeal.

"But I can assume you are talking again?" In a barely visible movement, his eyebrow rose.

"Yeah, we are." Emma nodded truthfully, letting her friend see a small corner of the one thousand piece, extremely intricate puzzle. "I'm helping him with something," she continued, keeping under wraps what the puzzle exactly depicted.

"I take it I'm not allowed to know what that something is."

"Not yet," Emma confirmed, the hurt of being so secretive clear in her voice.

David let out a sigh. It was soft, as if it was only meant for himself. A personal complaint about how difficult it was to uphold a friendship with her. The short puff only made her feel more guilty.

"Fine," he conceded with a shrug. He slightly widened his light blue eyes to emphasize his next statement. "Just know that if you need anything, I'm here."

Emma blamed her tired self and the emotional roller coaster she had been through, she even considered blaming PMS for the watery blur that had started to form in her eyes. The truth was that she still needed to adjust to having people, people who would be there for her and protect her and love her. Sometimes that realization tended to smother her completely.

"I know that, David. Thanks for always having my back," she said earnestly before gently squeezing his arm across the desk.

 _ **Emma: I'm stopping by after my shift tonight to go through the remaining files.**_

 _Well done, Emma. It's determined, it doesn't beat around the bush, can't convey any illusions and, most importantly, it doesn't need an answer longer than 'Okay.'_

 _ **Killian: Okay. Do you think we could talk while you are here?**_

 _Obviously, Killian didn't get the memo._

 _ **Emma: I don't know.**_

 _I don't know_ must have been the crappiest answer she could give, helping neither Killian nor her any further with determining the boundaries for their meeting, but frankly, Emma did not feel like making an effort. She didn't feel like overthinking whether or not she was ready for a talk and whether or not talking equated forgiving and forgetting. Although, it wouldn't take a long to figure out her point of view about that last one

Deferring their not-so-happy-reunion, Emma sat in her Bug and did absolutely nothing except for staring at her wheel and occasionally checking whether or not Killian had noticed her presence on the flower shop's parking lot.

She could send him a text saying that an emergency intervened and that she couldn't be able to make it, a text asking to reschedule. But it wouldn't make a difference, if she procrastinated, they would meet tomorrow or the day after that. It was like a bandage, the quicker she ripped it off, the shorter the pain.

With determined strides, Emma crossed the gravel and in one swift movement, she pushed the door open.

"Swan." Killian jumped off of the stool he sat on and clumsily made his way to her.

 _Desperation definitely isn't a good look on him._

"I know you're probably sick of hearing me apologize," he continued, "so I promise this is the last one. I apologize for my behavior last week. It was completely inappropriate and it will not happen again, I promise."

"Look, Killian, what you did was indeed very inappropriate and it better not happen again," she threatened. "I also really don't feel like talking about it right now, we have work to do." Her eyebrows went up to ask if he had understood without actually saying the words.

"Thank you," he said suddenly, surprising Emma with both the gratitude and the sincerity imbued in his voice, "For still wanting to help me after all that I've put you through."

Emma's big eyes stared at his blue ones for a long time, the connection only occasionally broken by quick blinks. The breaths she took seemed inadequate to supply enough oxygen to her brain and her thoughts became hazy while her chest started heaving. Her eyes fell shut as she internally berated herself for getting overwhelmed by him, yet again.

"I'm only here because I made you a promise," Emma responded, hoping the words came out convincingly, "and I'm not one to break my promises."

After a few additional seconds of his eyes on Emma, Killian nodded, showing his understanding. She nearly let out a breath in relief.

He turned around and walked to the back room and she followed. The files still lay on the table but they were now stacked in two neat piles instead of the clutter they were in when she hastily left on Friday.

Her arms left her leather jacket and hung it over the back of her chair. Silently, the both of them reached for a bundle of paper and started reading, in search of Gold's alias R. Stiltskin, of the smallest clue in the records.

* * *

Even though they had had a breakthrough, the lead led to absolutely nowhere. Killian got more nervous with each passing day, his movements more frantic and his temper easier lit. And after every evening Emma consecrated to assisting him, her indifference was making way for compassion and fear for what would happen to him if they ended up empty handed.

"This is leading nowhere!" Killian yelled as he threw away his file and it slid over the wooden table, ending up on the floor.

"Killian," she attempted to placate him. "Don't give up hope, we'll find something."

Her hand hesitantly moved and settled on his arm, softly squeezing in a reassuring gesture.

"Swan, you can't keep pretending like we're actually going to achieve anything with this." Killian pulled his arm away from her touch, from her, as he reclined in his seat, backing away from the table.

Emma let her hand fall back onto the table's surface. "There's nothing else we can do."

"Yes, there is," Killian claimed but didn't actually indulge her in the details of his idea

Emma widened her eyes and lifted her brow, prompting him to continue, to include her in his master plan.

"If anyone has tangible evidence of what happened to Milah, it's Gold himself," he told her. "We need to find a way to access his personal archives."

"What?" Emma exclaimed in an aghast question.

She couldn't contain her bewilderment of Killian's suggestion. He wanted to break into somewhere, either physically or virtually, to gain information; he wanted consort to illegality despite it being for the greater good.

"No," she opposed. "Never in a million years, Killian." The authority drenched her words.

"Swan," he attempted to convince her, "It's the only way."

"I will not." Her hands curled up into a ball instinctively. She was sheriff, she would not, she could not. She couldn't do it herself, nor could she be an accomplice. It was against the law that she was expected to uphold.

"You don't have to do anything, Swan." Killian's hand was on her shoulder, turning her to him, forcing her to look at the sparkle of hope his face bore after the blandness of the last few weeks. "I'll do this on my own," he reassured her.

"I said no," she said more quietly, her previous outrage lost by his furor.

The reasons why Killian couldn't do this were gathered in a list in Emma's head. A lot of them had to do with crime ,but the most important one, the one that stood at the top one was that she couldn't lose him. Even if he wasn't hers to lose. She tried to expose that feeling by keeping her tone soft and pleading. It didn't help, however.

"Why do you keep disputing with me when we both know I don't have another option?" He let go of her and pushed himself away from the table. For a moment, he agitatedly paced around the room before returning to her. "Is this because I tried to kiss you?"

 _The fuck does that have to do with anything?_

As soon as the fury had vanished, it reappeared. How dare he suddenly mention that kiss again as if it was the root of their current discussion? Because it was not.

"What?!" she shouted, getting up herself to stand on an equal footing.

"Because I apologized for that, Emma. It happened, I can't go back in time to change that and you can't hold a grudge forever."

"It's not about that!" Her hands flew in the air.

"Then what is it? Why can't you admit this is the only way?"

"I'm a sheriff, Killian. That's is my job," Emma reminded him. "I can't lose it because you are being careless. I'm going out of my way to help you, to keep helping you, but we have to do it by the book. If Gold figures out my role in this, my head is on that spike with you, as well as the reputation of the station, and David and- I'm not involving him."

It silenced Killian, his face pensive as he was thinking of a reply.

"Okay," he agreed, nodding. "We'll do it your way."

"Thank you." Emma filled her lungs with oxygen to calm down. "I know we only have four days left but we'll find something. I'm sure of it."

Who would have expected Emma Swan to be part of the hope squad her two best friends had a lifelong membership of? There was very little option left, except for hope for the best. Emma moved her lips into a small smile that was meant to reassure him.

Killian didn't look convinced, however; his gaze seemed too troubled for that and the lines between his eyebrows too deep. It was getting late but Emma couldn't leave him like this; the worry she felt inside was telling her he would try something that she wouldn't approve of.

Gold was Killian's anathema. Every fiber of his body wanted to make the villain account for what he had done, but Emma, telling him not to do anything illegal, forced him to stay put, to remain immobile while the bastard could go where he wanted regardless of the fact that he killed someone. It was an unfair world, Emma understood that, but that didn't mean everyone got a free pass

"Promise me," she said, dragging Killian's eyes towards hers.

There was no immediate answer and while she awaited one, the seconds ticked away. It was as if there was a clock embedded somewhere in Emma's body, the arrows reverberating with every strike and making Emma painfully aware of time.

Finally, after emitting a heavy sigh and using his fingers to comb through his hair, Killian shook his head in acquiescence.

"I promise." His voice undulated while uttering the words and it did absolutely nothing to console Emma.

She collected her stuff, stalling her departure instead of her entrance, as she kept on worriedly glancing towards Killian. Emma left the premises, walking out into the quiet night, hoping and pleading and praying that he would keep his promise.


	11. Chapter 11

**And I'm back! I apologize again for the large gaps between updates but pfff... life. Anyways, this is quite an angsty chapter and I'm already going to apologize for that but it's where the muses lead me and who am I to ignore them. Thanks for not giving up on this or me 3**

 **(A trigger warning for grave injuries and mentions of violence)**

* * *

She couldn't sleep; her eyes wouldn't follow her command of staying closed. Emma couldn't even get her body to listen to her pleas to simply relax. Turning and twisting her limbs into every possible position, her sheets rustled with the movements. The plethora of fear haunted her, uttered whispers of distress into her head and they were all in a very familiar voice.

In the darkness of her room, Emma fumbled around to find her phone that was lying somewhere on her nightstand. As she sensed the device under her fingertips, her hand curled around it and brought it closer. The bright screen informed her that it was 2:09 am. Letting her eyes fall shut, she sighed.

 _You're imagining things, Emma. Killian's fine. He's at home, above the flower shop, sleeping soundly, maybe even snoring like last time. There's no reason to worry._

Her eyelids opened again and Emma rubbed over her cheek. She clicked the nightlight button, sparking it to life and illuminating the room. Reluctantly, she left her cocoon with the realization that sleep wasn't in the cards for her right now. First, her bare feet hit the cold floor, then her bare legs braced the chilled air, goosebumps following instantaneously. Emma wasn't sure if the cold was the sole to be blamed, however. She grabbed her robe, to protect herself from the cold or maybe to not be confronted with the small shivers afflicting her body.

With the minimal light of her phone's flashlight, Emma maneuvered to her couch, curling herself in it as soon as she reached it. One by one, she pulled her legs close to her chest. Her hands wrapped around her shins and Emma rested her head on her knees. A breath came and left with a lot of dramatics, her chest drastically expanding and deflating because of the air passing through.

"Tobias, am I going crazy?" she said in direction of her cabinet. The living room was still dark but Emma's orientation in her own apartment was impeccable. "Well, I am talking to a cactus, so probably." The huff that came out of her mouth after she answered her own question of sanity was something between amusement and despair. "You should have seen him yesterday. I just– I can't shake the feeling he's going to do something stupid."

 _Emma, stop it. The lack of sleep is making you paranoid. You have to go to work in the morning. You need to sleep, so no more distractions, no more worrying._

Her internal voice did have a point, taking on the role of voice of reason. She was basing all of this distress on a hunch, a combination of word choice and actions. What if it had just been an inconvenient moment? What if she was just blowing everything out of proportion?

Trying to expel the nerves upsetting her stomach, Emma took a gulp of air and released it again. There was nothing to worry about, absolutely nothing. After repeating that mantra just about fifteen times, her mind started to believe it and her body started to unwind. To keep herself from staying up and scrolling mindlessly through Facebook until the sun decided to color the world again, to force herself to drag her body back to bed and try to get some sleep, Emma put her phone on airplane mode. Shutting it off completely would mean taking the risk of not being woken up by her alarm in the morning but this was the next, best thing.

* * *

The bells of her alarm clock sounded extremely loud in the early morning and were violating her sleep. Though her dream had been anything but peaceful; Emma couldn't complain about the interruption. Her face contorted as she thought back to the nature of the dream, to the images that had flashed by during her sleep. Giant hands and blood and an earth-shattering scream. Not a bone in her bodythat wanted to experience that ever again. Nor in reality, nor in the back of her slumbering mind. Stretching her back and legs, she rolled around in her bed. Her throat tingled with dryness and her eyes stung, the common side effects of sleep. Coffee. Her body screamed for a dose to wake her up.

Emma sighed and lifted herself out of her sheets, her movements slowed down by slugginess and reluctance but countered by the thought of the smell and taste and instant rush of the caffeine. Her bare feet crossed her living room and halted when Emma reached her kitchen. A yawn sneaked up on her and her hand was just too late to cover her mouth. The coffee maker was plugged in and set into motion.

The wait was excruciating, the slow trickle of water mocking her and somehow not advancing at all. Emma stared and her eyes kept falling shut, more slowly and with bigger time intervals, staying closed for a moment before opening anew. At this pace, she would fall asleep again before her coffee was even ready. She needed some sort of encouragement **,** a distraction, a figurative electric shock to awaken her senses. An idea formed, a plan which required her phone, or more specifically the Spotify playlist she made a few years ago filled with pumped up music.

Emma ran–or staggered–back to her room and yanked the charging cord out, bringing her phone closer. Her thumb swiftly tapped the airplane icon again to let the signals reach her phone again and make Spotify active–no way in hell she was going to pay every month to download songs. She immediately clicked on the familiar icon leading her to the app and waited until her phone had reconnected.

Suddenly, a buzzing sensation traveled from her phone to her hand, and another one, and another one. It was a shock so big and slightly overwhelming that Emma dropped her phone in response. She picked it back up, retrieved in from the fluff carpet it had nestled in and saw the notifications piling up, a constant flux of vibrations and boxes being stacked on each other.

 ** _Missed Call: David 2:36_**

 ** _New Voicemail: 2:37_**

 ** _Missed Call: David 2:41_**

 ** _Missed Call: David 2:43_**

 ** _Missed Call: David 3:07_**

 ** _New Voicemail: 3:07_**

Her breath hitched, got stuck somewhere between her lungs and lips as she read and counted how many times he had called her.

There was nothing to explain the urgency or the need for her. No text message to clarify it all. Something happened must have happened that's what her mind instantly concluded but with whom? With him? Mary Margaret? Baby Elliot? Emma didn't have the patience to call her voicemail, to listen to messages that were running behind on the current circumstances. With lightning speed, she pressed call, the dialer tone taking forever. The nail of her thumb became the victim of her anxiousness, getting bitten down on by her teeth.

"Emma."

She gulped air for the first time in actual minutes it felt when she heard his worried, yet relieved voice. The relief probably had to do with her finally being reachable again, showing a sign of life.

"David. What's wrong?"

Straight to the point, because she was not going to be able to stomach small talk, to let her worry increase even further.

"It's Killian."

Even though she hadn't mentioned him earlier, hadn't added him to the list before, he was always number one. She should have known to follow her gut, to listen to her premonition. It never ever failed her. She should have fucking known.

* * *

A certain scent clung to the hospital walls and spread into the halls. It smelled of disinfectant and of sadness somehow. Like if sadness could have a smell, a distinctive odor, it could be found in a hospital. She had always hated it; it never failed to bring a sense of lightheadedness, as if she was about to faint any second. To ensure that didn't happen, Emma had bought a can of Coke, to get her blood racing and her sugar levels spike. Her foot nervously tapped on the floor, a fast tick that surely annoyed the other people occupying a spot in the waiting room, but she couldn't stop. Nor could she stop shaking.

David had explained everything meticulously during their phone call–at least his take on the story and what he knew–and still Emma did not understand. Or could not comprehend, could not wrap her mind around it.

Killian had attempted to break in into Gold's shop.

That, she could process, didn't sound too surprising.

A silent alarm was triggered as he did, summoning Gold to his shop.

Which was logical.

David, already done with his shift at that time, was home, asleep, and got woken up by the same silent alarm Gold received. He dressed as soon as he could and made his way towards Main Street, towards the place of crime. When he entered the pawnshop, David found a bloody and battered Killian, his breathing shallow and wheezing. The floor was enameled with a pattern of crimson droplets and Killian lay in the midst of them, unconscious and cradling his left hand. Gold was nowhere in sight.

That was where Emma's mind refused to come to terms, refused to accept that that was what really happened.

Emma spotted a familiar face, a reassurance in the chaos of white, as he walked past her with a worried look troubling his eyes.

"David!" She jumped up, catching his attention and causing David to turn around again. "Why didn't you come to my apartment and wake me?" she asked when he stood before her.

"Emma, it was a whirlwind," he tried to reason. "I needed to call an ambulance and find Gold first and when I did that, I needed to make sure he didn't try and leave again. Besides, you weren't really the best person to have on this case."

She knew that objectivity was near to impossible for her when she was this involved. In the case, in Killian, and the thing they once shared–possibly still did–but the reason David didn't wake Emma up himself was also the reason he should have.

"But you should have," Emma said. Her hands rubbed over her forehead, fingers eventually ending in her hair as she combed through it. "I mean, he's been here for hours, all alone. He could have died." She moved her weight from one foot to another.

"He didn't, Emma," David reminded her, his voice soft and kind. "Have you seen a doctor yet?"

"No." Her head moved from left to right. "A nurse told me they're still operating."

"Hmmm," David made a sound in thought, his hand settling on her upper arm. "You stay here. I'll take over your shift." Emma felt a small squeeze as he spoke.

There was no way Emma would agree to that, not when she could discern the blue color under his eyes.

"No, David," Emma protested, "You've been up the entire day and night. Go home. Go sleep. I'll just be on call."

David tried to object; she could derive that from the small, discontented sigh he let out and she could see that in the movement of his eyes. To go home, to sleep during such precarious times felt unnatural, it would to her as well. They had to help people, always be on standby; that was what a job as sheriff entailed. David had to be reasonable, however, and understand that she was right. He could rest now, take a step back and let Emma take over, regardless of how emotionally compromised she currently was.

"I'll stop by the station on my way to the loft to put up a sign that we're only handling emergencies today." It was a last attempt to be useful, not wanting to capitulate completely.

Who was she to deny him that?

Emma shaped her lips into a smile. "Thanks, David." It was simultaneously a permission as a genuine sign of gratitude. He was the best colleague and friend anyone could ever wish for.

"Send me a text when he's out, will you?" he requested, making her notice David's affinity towards Killian.

He had said they were friends and maybe Emma was being a bit too self-centered on how this was affecting her, that she forgot that David had to be struggling as well. Even more reason to let him go home.

"I will," Emma reassured, summoning every ounce of sincerity she possessed and inserting it into those two words. Anything to make him catch his sleep quicker and worry less.

She sat back down on the uncomfortable chair, the plastic squeaking in response, and watched David get into the elevator, his departure leaving her alone again with her worry.

Her head rested on her arm, arm on the thin bar of metal of the chair. It was imprinted into her skin, a red line running from her elbow to her upper arm, but she couldn't seem to muster the energy to switch her position.

A white coat appeared in front of her, Emma hurriedly looking up and meeting the eyes of the person approaching. Dr. Whale came closer, a facade of neutrality preventing Emma from reading him, from concluding how it went before Whale even opened his mouth.

"Sheriff," he greeted her with a small nod. Emma practically jumped out of her chair. "We've finished Mr. Jones' operation with success and he's stable again."

Her shoulders sagged in relief, the tension leaving her body in one big swoop.

"Can I see him?" she asked, trying to control her eagerness in front of Whale.

It didn't seem to completely work as Whale slightly narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

"Oh," is his surprised response. "We only allow family into the ICU before visiting hours."

She was barely holding on as it were, barely able to calm herself, waiting even longer would make that impossible. Her mind would conjure images of unrecognizable Killian, the only indication of his identity the color of his empty gaze, and would flash them across her closed eyelids.

"I'm his girlfriend," she blurted out, so adamant on seeing him that she would even admit that there was _something_ going on between them, that Emma's concern went further than just a worried sheriff. Whale almost succeeded in hiding the shock from his face but didn't question her admission **.**

"Oh," he repeats, the sound even more befuddled than the last. "I wasn't aware. No problem if that's the case. I would like to warn you that it will be a shock to see him."

Dr. Whale lead her through the maze of hospital hallways and hospital rooms until they stood still before a door. Emma felt the doctor scanning her, assessing if she was ready, if she wasn't going to faint or break down and apparently, he was more sure of that than she was.

Even though Whale had warned her, she still felt the tingle through her body as the door opened and revealed Killian. He had a cracked lip, a discoloration on his eye, a gash on his forehead, but the most pronounced thing, the thing that made Emma silently gasp as she covered her mouth was his left hand–or rather the lack of it.

"We tried to salvage his hand but it was completely crushed," Whale explained.

She couldn't seem to be able to stop staring at the white bandage.

"How could that happen?"

"To cause this sort of damage–," Whale gestured to Killian. "–you would have to hit the hand with a very heavy object and multiple times.

Multiple times. And intentional.

"So this couldn't have been accidental," Emma concluded.

While the deduction was mostly meant for herself, Whale still shook his head.

"Definitely not. Someone heinous really must've held a grudge against him."

 _You could call him that._

"Emma," Whale said, turning towards her and surprising her with the use of her first name. "He's going to be fine. He'll have to do a lot of adjusting as can be expected with the loss of such a vital limb. It will take a while for his face to heal and his bruises to disappear, but besides that, he will survive."

"Thanks." It came out mumbled and despondent. Emma wasn't doubting his survival; it was his mental state she was worried about.

Whale must have realized that as well as his hand squeezed her shoulder in one final act of consolation before he left the room, before he left her alone with him.

"Let one of the nurses know if you need anything."

 _I just need him to wake up and really be okay._

There were about three instances where Killian began to stir and his face contorted and Emma prepared herself for his rousing, sitting straight and leaning towards him, only to be disappointed when his eyes stayed closed and his body turned limp again.

She attempted to make the wait less excruciating and more bearable; Emma played games on her phone, texted with David and Mary Margaret, scrolled through Facebook and watched a couple of videos. She had to tell Leroy that a lost ax was not an emergency and that he shouldn't bother her if he hadn't exactly that. He had rumbled a grumpy reply and had ended the call.

Because of the lack of change or progress in the last hour or so, and the abundance of hungry outcries her breakfast-and-lunch-void stomach was making, Emma decided to check out the hospital cafeteria for some bad to mediocre coffee and maybe some pastries. Who was she kidding: a lot of pastries.

Choosing a table in the corner, right by the window and far away from the bustle, Emma sat down. She did some contemplating, her hands curled around the steaming cup of coffee. She thought of the last twenty-four hours, of the last few months. Of all that had happened, of how her life had been a rollercoaster. The fear, the heartbreak, frustration, and anger but, above all, the love. The nail of her index dented the soft cardboard of the cup.

 _You love him._

Yeah… she did.

The feeling had been lingering around her for most of the time they spent together, approaching with every smile, every flower, every kiss. It had nearly taken over her entire body, settled into her mind and heart when Killian had forced her to pull up her walls again, denying it access. It had somehow managed to creep up on her anew, only becoming clear as she faced losing him, as she came this close to not having him around anymore. Distress revealed important things sometimes.

Not knowing what to do with all of this newly acquired knowledge, Emma sighed and stood up. She threw her wrappers in the trash and made her way to the elevator. Her finger pressed the button, sparking a little light, and she waited, teeth nervously nibbling on her lip

The elevator doors opened after notifying Emma that she had arrived at her destination. Rubbing her hand over her face, she got out. She felt tired. Both mentally and physically and both could be blamed on the man lying unconscious in the hospital bed three doors down. She took a moment to gather her courage again, to prepare herself for the upsetting sight she still hadn't grown used to.

The room looked exactly like she had left it–bed in the middle, two chairs on the side, a small table, lots of wires and machines–with the exception of a now awoken Killian Jones.

She couldn't've been gone that long, could she? For him to wake up and to calmly and lucidly be staring at his left arm.

Emma closed the door, causing Killian to look up at her. His eyes were empty of emotion; no tears, no anger, no pain and it only reaffirmed her worry about his mental state.

There was silence, a long, outstretched, awkward silence. It was Emma's fault because she couldn't think of anything to say, couldn't open her mouth and let out a word. And Killian just watched her.

 _Say something, Emma. Anything._

"Hi."

Killian cleared his throat and swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Hello," he rasped.

The sound instantly made Emma search for a remedy of his discomfort and she found one, a bottle of water and a plastic cup on the small, wooden table. The water was poured into the cup, the cup was handed to Killian, who had a look of relief written all over his face.

"Thank you," he said, the sound less raspy than before.

"Don't mention it."

Emma sat down on the chair next to his bed, clasping her hands together and rubbing her thumb over the surface of her palm.

"How long have you been awake?"

Or how long ago did he discover his left hand was gone.

"About half an hour."

She nodded in understanding.

"How long have you been here?" he asked in return.

"Since this morning so about eight or nine hours."

Killian didn't reply and Emma didn't know if she should continue to carry the conversation or if she should just let it die down, if that was what he needed; peace and quiet to let him absorb everything.

Her eyes roamed the room, painfully aware of the tension and avoiding him, his eyes, his bruises, his stump, with determination.

"Go ahead," Killian suddenly spoke up, forcing her eyes to stop darting around and settle on him again.

"What?"

Emma assumed that she looked startled and confused, eyes wide and eyebrows creased. Did she miss something while being so focused on evading more awkwardness and speechlessness?

"Scream, shout, do whatever you'd like." It was hopeless, careless and yet again Emma would give everything to know what was going on in his mind; she simply wanted to understand.

"I'm not going to yell at you, Killian." She sounded a bit indignant at his suggestion that he would think she was capable of yelling at him in the situation he was currently in.

"Emma," and Killian seemed to share her exasperation. "you have every right to. I know you're angry and feel like venting. So vent."

He was right. The anger lay under a layer of worry but now that he was okay, he was doing as good as he could in this situation, the layer was thinning, only a fine sheet, fragile and breakable.

Her eyes stared at him, a harsh gaze without any blinks. She licked her lips and pressed them together so hard that her tongue picked up the iron taste of blood that came out of the dents her teeth created. Her view became dark as she closed her eyes and attempted to control her breathing. It didn't help, however. Emma felt layer crack, felt it break under the weight.

"You are a fucking idiot, Killian Jones." Her lips barely moved as she whispered the words while shaking her head.

Her voice slightly rose with her next words but never passed a normal conversational tone. He wanted her to yell, to scream in outrage and lose control but she was not going to, because she knew the words would carry more of her sincerity, of her disapproval this way. Killian knew too.

"You could've gotten yourself killed and you are so lucky David found you in time. You promised me you wouldn't do fucking shit like this and scare the hell out of me."

He didn't answer for a while, settled for watching her with attentive eyes. He waited until she calmed down, until breathing came less in spasms.

"If it makes you feel better, I've paid a price for my mistake."

By shaking it, he pulled her attention towards the bandaged stump.

"Don't, alright?" she bit and a warning finger got pointed his way. A shiver traveled through her body and Emma knew what this meant. Sure enough, the water started gathering at the ridges of her eyes. Tears of fear. Tears because and for him.

"Don't make jokes about that. _Nothing_ about this is funny. I can't even trust you anymore, Killian. Do you even know what you put me through?" Emma clenched her teeth, trying to stop the flood but it was in vain. The tears quickly multiplied and ran in great numbers down her cheeks as she thought not only of the stint that had landed him here but of everything he had done. "I thought you were gone for good, that I'd lost you like everyone else," she admitted, her voice unsteady.

"I'm sorry, Emma." And it seemed like the guilt was too much to bear in that moment, like he couldn't face her because he was ashamed and that was why he closed his eyes.

Emma roughly wiped her tears away and averted her gaze.

"So am I."

She didn't want to dwell in this mix of anger and fear, not while he was okay and alive but it was proving to be a challenge to extinguish the fire, to assuage the distress raging inside.

"I'm going out for some air," she announced, standing up immediately and not even staying long enough to let him respond.

The automatic doors rolled open for her, granting her access to leave the hospital, and the cold air immediately hit her skin. The sky was slowly turning dark, a last color burst of purple and orange and pink being painted before Emma's very eyes. A small stone bench stood not far from the entrance and she sat down, crossing her legs under her body and resting her hands on her knees. Her eyelids closed as Emma focused on her breathing again. In and out. Let the panic out and the calm in. Let the racing thoughts out and the silence in.

It helped.

How much time passed before it helped, Emma wasn't sure, but at least it did.

The sun had completely set by the time she felt ready, the streetlights buzzing to make up for the lost light, but Emma didn't immediately return inside; she didn't rush to rejoin Killian. There was something else she needed to do first.

She stood up, stretching her legs. Her hand dove into her pocket, in search of her phone and when she found it she dialed David's number. He had asked for an update of how his friend was doing and Emma owed it to him.

Emma lightly maundered across the concrete while listening to sounds her phone was emitting. The call went straight to voicemail, something that Emma knew was Mary Margaret's doing. It was a reassuring thing, knowing that David had her to take care of him, to make sure he rested.

"Hi, David, it's me." She cleared her throat to get rid of the last remnants of the discussion with Killian. "Killian is awake." It was the first thing she said, the most important thing he needed to know. "Umm... he's doing good, considering the situation. Too good if you ask me." Her hand gently untangled her hair. "He was only awake for an hour when we already fought, but I think that I just really needed to get some stuff off my chest and he really needed the wake-up call. I'm outside right now to give us both some space and I'm planning to return in a bit. I'm probably going to stay at the hospital for the night as well. He needs someone to be with him and support him, I think. Umm… I'll take the early shift tomorrow, as usual, so definitely don't worry about that and don't worry about Killian either; he's in good hands. Yeah… I think that's it. Give Elliot and Mary Margaret a kiss from me and I'll see you tomorrow. Bye."

Emma quietly slipped back in the room, taking notice of the dimmed lights and closed curtains. As soundlessly as she could, Emma took off her jacket and sat back in the chair.

"You came back," he said, voice somewhere between a whisper and a breath. Emma startled as she thought he was asleep.

"I did."

Her words came out as quiet as his question but lacked the wonder his carried.

"What time is it?" Killian asked, eyelids still hiding his cyan irises.

Retrieving the device from her pocket, she clicked it to life again.

"It's… 9 pm," she answered.

"Are you allowed to stay here this late?"

"Um…" Secretly, she was hoping that he wouldn't ask about that, especially since they had already covered so many emotions today and how exactly was she going to explain this without creating more confusion? "Family is, and seeing that I told Whale I'm your girlfriend, I don't think he'll make a problem of it."

She should've been deaf or blind not to notice the sudden spike in Killian's heart monitor.

"Oh," was his simple reply.

He clearly had no idea if she meant it or if it was just a cover to get to him; if that was what she wanted or only a temporary thing.

Emma didn't know either, if she was being honest.

"Thank you, Swan."

"For what?" she asked, genuinely unaware of what he was referring to.

"For lying to Whale." Their eyes met. "For being here." And for the first time in twenty-four hours, Emma knew what he was thinking, knew that what he was expressing was what he truly felt inside. The look on his face was so sincere that it slightly took her breath away and that she sensed the familiar chills run over her skin.

They would be alright.

"Don't mention it." The corner of her lips gently went up. "Do you want me to stay the night?"

It was his decision, completely his to take; she would adjust herself to his needs, to what was best for him.

"Where would you sleep?" Killian replied to her question with one of his own. He attempted to lift his head to scan the room for any possibility of accommodation and Emma could see the strain in his neck, the effort it was taking to such a simple thing after such a complicated surgery and such an eventful day.

"In a chair." Her shoulders slightly went up. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Back in the day, when Neal was still her great and eternal love, they made it a sport to sleep in unusual spots, in places that seemed completely inept to slumber at first sight but they made something of it. They were good at that, self-sufficiency and ingenuity.

There still had been no actual answer to what she needed to know, so Emma tilted her head and lightly raised her eyebrows, repeating the question without any words. Even in the dimmed light, she could see the tips of his ears redden as he admitted his preference.

"I'd like that."

Her lips curled as she witnessed the return of bashful Killian and the familiarity of it felt like a warm embrace.

"Okay."

At first, she tried to fight the sleep, startling awake each time she realized her eyelids started slowly dropping. Emma tried to keep her them open, tried to be what he needed, someone to watch over him, someone to protect him, to soothe him but.

 _I can think of a word that describes all of that._

"Emma," Killian said softly, his voice a whisper of reassurance. "Close your eyes, love, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

Emma nuzzled further into the small, white pillow, sighing with relaxation as she did.

"You better not," was mumbled right before the familiar lull took over and gently put her to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: This is the penultimate chapter so we are very close to the end. I'd love to hear what you thought of this**


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